Hero? Villain? I'm thinking both and neither
by verycoolname
Summary: An SI/OC ends up in some version of the DC universe. Life isn't easy for him at the start, but he definitely lands on his feet. Any guy in his shoes would want to be a superhero, and he is no exception. Making a difference isn't easy though, and he needs to be more than just a superhero to do it. How will the Justice League react to a newcomer who plays by a whole new set of rules?
1. Chapter 1

**I got bored and thought I would post this story I've been sitting on. Hope everyone likes it!**

I can't remember dying, but I remember what happened afterward. It had taken a while to figure out what I actually remembered _was_. Nothing made sense, memories included. Being born was a harrowing experience though, and it was obvious that whatever was happening was real. Even if it wasn't, it felt real enough that I would treat it that way. What was happening on the other hand, was both straightforward and incomprehensible. It was self-evident but strange enough to rock my worldview.

Getting a chance to restart my life was an amazing gift. I got a do-over to study harder, exercise from early on, avoid common mistakes, and generally improve myself. Life is never that easy though.

I was reborn in a slum, to a pair of addicts. It was a stark difference compared to my previous life. We hadn't been rich, but my parents loved me and we were relatively well off. Finding out I was going to be growing up in a small, dirty apartment and being raised by apathetic, self-destructive parents was a real shock. The fact that this was in the Gotham's slums, the worst part of a giant, city-shaped magnet for the criminally insane... Well, that was just icing on the terrible, terrible cake.

With how negligent my parents were, I was lucky that I didn't die. My luck seemed to turn around when I was three. A couple of men in suits entered the apartment. At first, I thought they were from child services. I was overjoyed. Then I heard them talk and saw the money changing hands.

I had been sold.

That was the point where I decided that these weren't my parents. My only parents were in another universe. People like that, they don't even deserve my hate. They stopped mattering to me. Either way, I never saw them again.

I don't know what they wanted with me. The injections, surgeries, and examinations suggested I was just a guinea pig. Then again, if that's all I was, why would they educate me and take such good care of me? Sure, I get why they would make sure their test subject got proper nutrition and exercise. But whether or not a kid was getting any schooling didn't affect how they reacted to drugs.

I might have been a child soldier, but that didn't seem right either. Again, giving history lessons to an expendable resource seemed pointless. I was getting it all; an advanced education, physical training, good food… If it wasn't for the experiments and their apathetic attitudes I might have believed I was being raised as someone's perfect son.

By the time I had been in this lab for about ten years everyone had gotten quite lax. I hadn't tried to escape even once. I studied hard, trained hard, and never complained. The doctors and trainers were pleased to have such a diligent and talented student. They didn't even question how I learned so much quicker than they expected. They just chalked it up to whatever concoctions they were pumping into me. Not only that but as far as the guards were concerned I was unable to rebel. I had intentionally encouraged that assumption of course.

It was on my thirteenth birthday that everything changed. I finally figured out what they had been planning for me.

Some old man in a wheelchair arrived to 'inspect' me. He was creepy and borderline senile. More importantly, he was also bad at hiding his intentions. The way his wrinkly face twisted when he looked at me made it obvious that letting him do what he wanted was a bad idea. It was a good thing I had an amazing poker face.

"Take off your shirt."

The old man licked his lips as he leaned forward in his wheelchair and looked me over. I pulled off my shirt and folded it over an arm under the eyes of several doctors and guards. The wheezing old man grinned creepily at the sight of my muscular body.

"It's perfect! When can I have it?"

Doctor Quince shifted awkwardly and hesitated to answer. He was new, so he didn't trust me as much as everyone else.

"Sir, I'm not sure we should talk about this in front of C23."

The old man glared at Quince before Doctor Heather cut in. She had been here since the beginning, so she was one of the most complacent.

"C23 will be ready for the procedure in about a month; the treatments have stabilized and he has already begun to undergo puberty."

The old man nodded as she spoke, barely listening. He leered at me.

"My body, my perfect body…"

I'll admit, when I heard that whisper, I nearly made a face. The mental images nearly made me gag. A few of the security guards actually did. The others watched me closely. I hadn't revealed my true thoughts though; my face was a perfect picture of patient boredom. They led their decrepit boss away while he was whispering to himself in that wheezy voice of his.

I was led back to my room, so I pulled out a book and pretended to read it while I was thinking. It didn't take a genius to be able to tell that whatever was going to happen was what these people had spent ten years on me for. I had a good idea of what it was as well.

The old dude was going to use some method to switch bodies with me.

There were other possibilities, but this theory made the most sense. If the old dude wanted my body for… other reasons, he wouldn't bother spending all this time and money on me. There was no reason to buy a baby and pump them full of drugs for something like that. Between the creepy comments about 'my body' and the fact that this was a comic universe, I could be pretty sure his goal was more ridiculous. The old man wanted a physically and mentally superior body to stick his mind in.

My first instinct was to escape immediately. I really, _really_ didn't want some creepy old geezer to play bodysnatcher. Then I had an idea. If I played my cards right, I would actually benefit from this.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been several weeks and I had prepared everything as perfectly as I could. I'd been forced to take things slowly to allay suspicions, but I was basically ready. Things were going perfectly as well. A few days before the procedure started I was brought into an office and they made me sign some papers.

I had been waiting for this. They were transferring ownership of the old man's resources to his 'new body'. Even better, they were cocky enough to do it before he actually made the switch. I was now a multi-millionaire. That night I started my escape.

I couldn't just pick a few locks and leave the building; I needed to make certain that I was going to keep my new wealth and that I wasn't going to get caught again. I pulled apart the keypad to my door and had it unlocked in moments.

It was funny; they had educated me in all sorts of skills including electronics and computers, they knew that I had a genius-level intellect, and yet they never believed I would use that knowledge without their permission. It just goes to show how dangerous complacency is.

Sneaking into the surveillance room was tricky, but knowing the locations of the security cameras made it easier. Bill was the one on duty. He had somehow smuggled a magazine into the building and was flipping through it idly. I carefully knocked him out and tied him up with a rope made of a bedsheet. Bill was a decent guy so I was relatively gentle. I also took his magazine with me so he wouldn't get in any more trouble. It wasn't like he could avoid getting fired, but he didn't need to be blamed for my escape because he was reading a naughty swimsuit magazine.

I turned off the surveillance cameras. As long as I covered my tracks properly they wouldn't know what I did. I 'met' Allen on my way to the offices. I always hated the bully, so I gave him Bill's borderline smut. I left him trussed up like a Christmas present.

Logging onto the doctor's computers was easy as pie. The computer was part of the building's secure setup. They didn't even connect these to the internet, so I couldn't use it for a lot of the stuff I needed. That was fine; I had other things I could do with this.

Like gutting it for all the incriminating evidence I could find.

There was a lot here. Videos and papers from years of them poking and prodding me were meticulously stored on the servers. There were other kids in the records as well, but there wasn't as much of them since I was the only one who had survived the initial culling process. I put the worst onto a flash drive and added a bunch of paperwork as well. The company that the old man was running had been doing a lot of stuff that the police would be interested in, so I made sure that I had a record of everything remotely criminal that had been done here.

There was enough to implicate them ten times over. Daedalus Incorporated was such a stereotypically evil corporation that it wasn't funny.

I moved onto gathering up any supplies I would need to stay safe. I left behind three more unconscious guards, raided the break room to get enough food for a couple of days, along with some of the more useful supplies from the labs. Dr. Mason was really going to hold a grudge about me raiding his secret stash of beef jerky and breaking open the vending machine. Once I was set for my short term needs I began to work my way into unknown territory. I hadn't exactly been given a free run of this place, so I had to rely on what I'd seen on the security cameras and records to put together a crude mental map.

Turns out, this place was a _lot_ bigger than I'd expected. This company was so arrogant, or short-sighted, that they had put all their eggs in one basket. It was increasingly obvious that this wasn't a building so much as a massive complex. I wasn't sure, but it was probably underground. That was going to make escaping harder, but my next destination might help.

The heavy doors to the experimental weapons wing slid open slowly and I stepped over another pair of unconscious guards and into the most beautiful thing I have seen in this life. It was like a candy store, only filled with weapons.

From what I could find on the computers, this stuff was made to combat metahumans. I can only imagine how rich someone could get selling guns that could threaten Superman. Apparently, someone here could. They had been trying their best to make some for years. The results weren't anywhere close to having the power that could threaten heavyweights like the Kryptonian boy scout though.

There was far too much to carry, so I needed to limit myself to a few favorites. Luckily, their computers had plenty of demonstration videos edited for potential customers. I also looked up the stuff that they weren't willing to show the customers, like blueprints and technical information.

The weapons made for mass production were okay. They certainly were better than a normal assault rifle, ...but only just. It was obvious that the designers had given up their original goal and were trying to make something fancy looking, not necessarily effective. The energy rifles would be very expensive to operate and maintain. It was apparent from the tests that any buyers would be better off sticking with more conventional firearms. There were others that were designed to be non-lethal, although the tests showed that their results so far were like the glowing green energy equivalent of a bean bag round.

Each weapon, including the grenades, used the same exotic energy source. The odd energy was more of a downside in my opinion. It was like selling a product that used completely unique batteries for no reason. If the performance was good enough people might buy it, but with what I saw I couldn't understand why these scientists were spending all this time and effort. The weapons looked really cool and that was about it.

It was a shame that they would be useless to me once I ran out of the weird power clips they used.

I was actually getting discouraged until I found some odd-looking files. I felt everything click when I started to read. The files, titled Project: Black Box, told an interesting story. The scientist hadn't managed to come up with an unique energy and weaponize it on their own. All of their fancy guns and toys had come from utilizing the power of a single object.

My first thought as I read the files was how much it reminded me of the Tesseract from the Captain America movie. The energy was the wrong color though. I couldn't help but sigh in relief at that. The DC universe was chaotic enough without adding infinity stones to the mix. I pulled up a few pictures and looked at the mystery object. Didn't DC have something like this already? I was pretty sure it was called 'mother box' or something like that. It literally had been over a decade since I had read any comics or watched any shows, so my memory was pretty fuzzy.

The all-important object was held in a sturdy storage locker with only a large padlock keeping it safe. All I had to do was grab one of the energy rifles and empty the clip into the lock. It took a while for the molten metal to cool, but when it did all I needed to do was lever open the door and take my prize. The people here were being so stupid that it was ridiculous.

I wasn't going to complain though. Being able to escape was great, but stealing their precious toy at the same time was just too good.

The artifact was a heavy black box the size of a Rubik's cube. Thin lines of pale green light crawled over its surface. I recognized the color of the glow from the demonstration videos showing off the fancy space guns and grenades.

"Hello beautiful~"

The zigzagging lines hesitated for a moment, then they went back to normal. I didn't miss that little twitch, and I felt my smile getting wider. This may be more special than I had thought.

"You can understand me can't you?"

The cube didn't react.

If I was being watched I would feel a bit foolish, but I know for a fact that I had shut down the cameras. I could talk to inanimate objects all I wanted without anyone seeing me and labeling me a crazy person. This was a comic book world though, so I was willing to bet on the ridiculous explanation being the right one.

"Listen, I know you're aware, you don't have to fake it."

The moving lines froze completely, before moving in a different pattern. I got the distinct feeling that it was staring at me. I carried the box over to a table and sat in a chair next to it. I was trying to treat the box as a person, instead of an object. For some reason, I really wanted to make a good impression.

"Listen, I was taken here against my will and experimented on. I'm trying to escape right now. I don't know for sure, but you're in the same boat, aren't you?"

{...}

I blinked a couple of times. The box hadn't spoken, but that was definitely a response. The cube somehow sounded suspicious, but it had 'said' yes.

"You want to come with me? I can probably get us out of here."

I was happy to take any chance to ruin these people's day, but somehow it didn't feel right to basically kidnap this cube if it was actually sentient. I was a bit surprised that I actually thought that way. It seemed just as surprised.

{...}

It was definitely suspicious as well. I was about to speak again when it interrupted me.

{...}

"What? Okay…"

I picked it up and put it against my forehead just like it asked. A spark of green electricity arced against my skin. I jumped, but my hand and forehead seemed to be stuck to the cube as if they were magnetized. A tingle spread through my skull, and I felt the thing sorting through my memories like it was skimming through a book. It was weird, uncomfortable, and more than a little invasive, but I got a decent read on the cube while it was in there.

The way the cube examined my memories was impersonal. It seemed to have emotions, but it was obvious that it didn't think like a person. After it finished rooting through my mind, the cube seemed to come to a decision. It softened and melted, coating my face. Black and green metal flowed over my head and down my arm. Within seconds I was encased in a thin layer of alien metal, making me feel claustrophobic. I was trapped while it vibrated and twisted around me. It even started forcing its way into my mouth and nose. Just as I was starting to panic the metal suddenly shifted, and I was wearing a skin-tight suit of high tech armor.

My connection to the cube became much clearer. Our thoughts seemed to gain a strange harmony, then began to blend and combine. A blob of the strange material shook free of my hand and actually started floating in the air, but our minds were already one. We hesitated before following our instincts, and more metal pushed out of the blob and formed into a hovering metal glider.

"This. Is. Awesome."

It really was. I looked so cool like this and so did the glider. Even my distorted voice sounded wicked. If I didn't have a thirteen-year-old body it would be even better.

The cube's 'mind' was part of mine now. It was an extension of my thoughts while still maintaining enough independence that it could aid me without using any of my own focus. It seemed like the fusion had different effects though. My brain power was boosted drastically as it interfaced with me. Memories in my mind flared to the forefront of my thoughts, and the cube latched onto them. The glider surrounding it and the armor surrounding me started to change shape, altering to suit me better.

The glider shifted to metallic silver and grey colors. Its shape twisted into the form of a hawk-like gargoyle. Red eyes glowed ominously on the horned and fanged face and glowing green vents held it in the air. It looked very sleek: the angles reminded me of a sports car or a high-end motorcycle. The cube had been careful to keep the Halloween look though, and it pulled it off wonderfully.

My armor turned a deep green color and the texture changed from something obviously metal to identical to human skin texture. My body looked off until the cube covered my torso in a set of purple clothes, complete with a hood and loincloth. Matching boots that nearly reached my knees and fingerless gloves that covered the length of my forearms appeared as well. A belt with a stylized orange skull buckle appeared around my waist, completing the look.

I looked myself over, feeling my face as well, noting how what had been more like a mask or a helmet now was part of my skin, altering the structure and giving me a pointed nose, ears, and chin. I gave myself a conflicted smile.

"The Green Goblin? Really?"

The Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon was great and had my favorite Green Goblin, but among all my memories, why was that the cube's first pick?

There was a fading sensation of the cube giving the mental equivalent of a shrug before it disappeared into the depths of my subconscious. We had fused, and now there was only 'I' remaining. It was still there in a way, I could feel the increase in brainpower along with a stronger body and keener senses. The only difference was that this was fusion instead of symbiosis.

It occurred to me too late that I had been quite reckless, for all I knew the cube could have been another bodysnatcher. After a moment's thought, I echoed the cube's mental shrug; there was no use overthinking things. I may as well count my blessings and move on.

My new armor didn't look like armor at all. It was technically a part of me, but that didn't explain how the strange, biomechanical technology managed to look so natural. Even so, if I hadn't experienced it for myself I would have thought this was my actual skin and face that had been transformed. Even my mouth was different. There wasn't any mirror nearby, but I could feel my slightly sharper teeth with my tongue.

After finishing looking myself over, I jumped into the air, landing on the glider with a flip. It let out a rising hum and I blasted off down the hallways. I had figured out where the employees entered the complex years ago. That thought made me a little emotional. I hadn't left the complex in literal years.

At first, I just wanted to start blowing up stuff. The plan had been to cover my tracks and destroy everything I could. After some thought, I decided it wasn't worth the time. It might help the police if I didn't leave this place a smoking crater. Plus, it wasn't like those schmucks would miss that I escaped with their golden goose.

I had been careful while collecting evidence so I didn't need to worry about them covering their tracks right away. I hadn't made a mess in their offices, so as far as they knew I 'only' knocked out their guards, stole the cube, and pillaged their break room.

I did take the time to find the room where the mind-switching device was. It delayed my escape, but I took my time and placed a few timed pumpkin bombs around anything that looked important. That old creep wasn't going to have an opportunity to steal anyone's mind if I had anything to say about it. It wasn't like I would be in any less trouble if I left it alone anyways.

I flew to a stop in front of the elevator. It was so much fun flying on the glider that I didn't want to get off. I just pushed the button with my foot and entered the elevator while riding cross-legged. The glider casually drifted through the open doors. The elevator rose quickly, but the complex had been built quite deep underground. I hummed lightly as I rose upwards towards the surface. The elevator dinged lightly and the doors opened to reveal a cluttered storage room. This was almost certainly the official building now.

When the doors shut there wasn't a trace of their presence. So far I had been rather unimpressed with the precautions throughout the complex, but this was fairly well thought out. Unfortunately, they were so confident of their methods of keeping their secrets hidden that they didn't properly defend them. Now I could blow their whole operation wide open. I pulled out an orange disc with a jack o 'lantern design and squeezed it. Oddly shaped triangular blades that shouldn't have fit inside the disc popped out.

The blades cut into the plaster easily as I slashed a pair of arrows onto the wall that pointed towards the secret elevator. That wasn't going to be something they could hide with a bit of paint.

The wings of the glider folded to fit through doorways and I shot down the hallway. I zipped along quickly and found the entrance quickly. I caught sight of the security guard's shocked face out of the corner of my eye as I swept past the front desk. His expression made me cackle as I smashed straight through the glass doors. Then I saw the sky for the first time in ten years.

It was dark, covered in clouds, and dreary even ignoring the fact that it was late at night. ...It was beautiful.

I shot up above the buildings and into the sky. The wind whipped at my face. Somehow the feeling of touch and temperature were transferred through the armor. I was thankful for that since it let me experience even more of this night flight.

For a brief moment, I was truly free. I didn't think about the struggles in my future or the dangers that I would face. The pain and imprisonment of my past didn't matter; it only let me savor the ability to fly all the more.

Then a woman's scream echoed faintly and I was brought back to reality.

"Oh, right... This is Gotham."

I hopped out of my cross-legged position and leaned forward, the glider dipped forwards like a hawk in a lazy dive. The cube and I were basically one. It made piloting the glider as easy as moving a hand.

Some dude had cornered a lady in an alley. Just a glimpse wouldn't have been enough to make any judgments, but the terror in her eyes was enough to understand what I needed to do. I dove into the alley and leaped from the glider. The glider pulled into a hover as I dropped like a rock.

Dragging a hand and foot against the wall let me bleed off some speed. I doubted a fall from five or six stories would do much damage through my armor, especially with whatever they had pumped into me over the years, Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Dynamic! Entry!"

Once I was only about a story up I forced myself into a roll and kicked off the wall at an angle. I kicked the thug in the back, sending him flying off his feet. His knife seemed to float in place as his body practically bounced off the ground before slamming into a trio of garbage cans. I landed lightly on my feet and snagged the knife out of the air.

The woman stared blankly. My appearance had been so sudden that it startled her out of her fear. It didn't last long though; my lean, pointed face must have been quite scary in the dim light. I tried to give her a reassuring grin, but she just flinched. I flicked my arm out, tossing the knife at a dumpster to the side. It stuck in the heavy plastic lid. The lady seemed partially relieved at me disarming myself, although she cringed at the noise. I held out my arms in a non-threatening posture and kept smiling.

"Sorry to 'drop in' uninvited, are you alright?"

She nodded nervously but didn't stop cowering. I wiped the grin off my face and gave her the most gentle look I could manage. Given her reaction, it wasn't enough.

"Do you want help getting home?"

The lady couldn't help but flinch again. It hurt my feelings a bit, although I totally understood. I could hardly blame her with my appearance and the circumstances. I settled for giving her an exaggerated bow and smiling once more. I jerked a thumb at the mugger's knife as I did.

"Then you have a safe night ma'am. Also, go ahead and arm yourself, it might help for next time."

I jumped up and kicked off the wall, the force let me fly over and snag a hand on a conveniently placed air conditioning unit on the opposite side of the alley. I heard a quiet 'thank you' coming from below me, so I pushed upwards and threw my body into a flip. As I rolled through the air I gave her a mid-air salute before catching my fingers into the brickwork and scrabbling up the wall like a lizard. I quickly disappeared over the edge of the building. As far as the woman was concerned, I was long gone. She half stumbled, half ran out of the alley. After I was sure she had left I dropped back into the alley.

I snagged the man's wallet and emptied it of cash before dropping it on his chest. I added it to the bundle I had gathered off the security guards. The thug didn't have much, but every little bit helped. What I was really after though, was his cellphone. The guards weren't allowed to bring theirs into the complex. I shoved him over with a foot and pulled the device out of his back pocket. It had a crack in the screen, but it still worked fine.

The phone didn't have a password, so I didn't need to slap the thug around for access. I pulled up a map and hunted down the route to the Gotham City police department. It was surprisingly close. The glider shoved me upwards and we wove between the buildings as we flew away.

At the pace we were going, the glider and I would reach the police department in half an hour. I amused myself viewing the gothic architecture. This city might be dark and dreary, but it did have a special atmosphere.

This part of the city wasn't as nasty as where I was born. It made sense; Daedalus Incorporated wouldn't set up in the slums and the police department was nearby. There were plenty of buildings that were open even this late. A surprising number of people were out and about as well. They moved in a hurry, but it was obvious that they were going about their normal day, such that it was.

I caught sight of a pastry shop and almost passed it when a mischievous idea popped into my head. I flew lower and slipped off the glider, grabbing onto a streetlight and sliding down it like it was a fireman's pole.

People were pointing and staring as I walked into the store, and the clerk watched me like he expected me to suddenly explode. Nobody did anything though. I purchased two dozen donuts and left the building whistling an upbeat tune. A few minutes later I marched through the front doors of the Gotham City Police Headquarters.

"Special delivery!"

I got maybe three steps past the door before three different cops drew guns and trained them on me. I stood there, holding up the donut boxes with the papers and thumb drives stacked on top while being skewered by glares and seconds away from getting my head blown off by trigger happy policemen…

"Oh right... This is Gotham."


	3. Chapter 3

In hindsight, walking into a police station in a city famous for its psychotically insane weirdos while in my goblin persona was a bad idea.

I did my best to look non-threatening, holding my arms out, one hand empty, the other hand holding the boxes of donuts and the evidence up. My smile disappeared and I stared emotionlessly at the armed men.

"If you shoot those, someone is going to die."

Their eyes narrowed, and a few more armed policemen spilled into the room. The clerk behind the desk pumped his shotgun and sneered at me.

"Yeah? who?"

"Me."

They didn't exactly laugh, but I noticed a few of their faces twitching as they hid smiles. I took advantage of the slightly lighter mood. Inching towards a chair by the door, I pointed a finger at my other hand.

"Sorry to bother you, but I brought donuts and incriminating evidence. I'll just set it here and be out of your hair. Have a nice night."

They didn't stop me from setting down the boxes and backing out of the building. A few of them shifted and looked at each other, but in the end, I managed to leave the building without incident. I gave them a tiny wave before running away with my arms in the air while making Zoidberg noises and grinning like a loon.

By the time they followed me out the door I had hopped onto my glider and disappeared into the night. I couldn't help cackling quietly. That had been a lot more fun than it should have been. Despite what I said, my armor was almost certainly bulletproof. The lack of immediate danger made clowning around fun. It had been over a decade since I had been able to let loose, so I was glad that I still could.

I hid and transformed back to normal. It felt weird like my armor was soaking into my skin. The worst bit was the way my teeth itched as they shifted.

I stopped by a store and nabbed myself a laptop next. I was forced to get a cheap one, and completely used up my stockpile of cash. I'd emptied the entire stockpile of money I'd liberated from the security guards to pay for this piece of junk. Even then, I almost was unable to afford it thanks to buying those donuts for a joke. It was worth it, but I should have gotten the laptop first. Without a computer, I wouldn't be able to access my actual money.

The rest of my night was spent setting up the computer in a coffee shop and moving my money around so the old man and his flunkies wouldn't be able to take it back. I knew that there was no legal way he could, at least not without drawing unwanted attention, but those people had already demonstrated how little they respected laws they didn't like.

It wasn't easy working while ignoring the whispers. I had transformed back into my normal form, but I still stuck out like a sore thumb. It hadn't occurred to me before, but the hospital scrubs I was wearing weren't exactly street clothes. I had worn them for almost all my life, so it didn't occur to me that it would look weird. The people were mostly content to stare though, so I was able to work in peace.

Once I was sure I would have at least some money stashed away I set off to find myself somewhere to rest. It had been a stressful, emotional, exhausting couple of days, and I was looking forward to sleeping somewhere other than a lab.

I strolled through the streets with the bag over my shoulder. The air was chilly this late, but my body could handle it surprisingly easily. I wouldn't want to be dressed like this come winter though.

I had wandered into the rougher part of town. It was pretty obvious when I did. The streets were dirtier and the buildings were worn and had broken windows. There were fewer people out and about as well, and those who were around had an unsavory look to them. A few men were looking me over like hyenas watching an antelope for a sign of weakness. I didn't look unattentive or scared though, so the brighter ones were wary.

One hefty looking man got in my way. He was filthy and greasy looking, and his breath smelled like booze and halitosis. He grinned maliciously and opened his mouth to say something, but I wasn't interested in bantering right now. I lobbed my bag at him and lunged at him when his eyes started tracking it.

The man's eyes widened when he saw me move. He barely had time to flinch before I planted a foot in his stomach, knocking the air out of him. I caught my bag in one hand before backhanding him in the chin with the other. He toppled over, wheezing and gasping.

I casually stepped over him and kept walking. Everyone in the area backed off after that. I could tell that my face was being memorized though. That could be a problem later. I couldn't do anything about it, so I just counted myself lucky that I wasn't going to be jumped immediately.

I wandered around for quite a while. Finding a safe place to sleep was going to be harder than I thought. If I were older I could just book a hotel room, but unfortunately, I was too young. Moving my money around on the internet had been tricky, but when people could actually see that I was a minor in hospital scrubs there were had a whole different set of obstacles.

Even homeless shelters were off-limits for now. A thirteen-year-old alone in a place like that might not draw attention, but it would raise questions, even in Gotham. I didn't need anyone asking about my identity.

It was funny: I was technically a multimillionaire, but I was looking for an abandoned building to sleep in.

Eventually, I saw some sort of abandoned conservatory or garden. It was overgrown, but I could see the glass of a large greenhouse peeking out from among the trees. I was immediately drawn to it. How long had it been since I had seen a plant that wasn't on a dinner plate? The plastic plants in the hallways of the complex didn't count, so it had been at least over a decade.

I immediately made a beeline for it. The gates and the ticket stand were old and broken, so I could waltz right in.

The place was really overgrown. There was a massive number of plants, and many of them were much larger than they ought to be. I recognized a rhododendron bush that had grown three stories tall. This place was like a jungle.

I didn't see any trace of human presence. This was the perfect place to rest until I could get my feet under me. If I needed to lie low till Daedalus couldn't hunt me down, then a place like this was as good as any.

The air was wonderful. It _smelled_ green. It had a life to it that the disinfected air of the lab and the exhaust-filled air of the streets lacked. I kicked off my shoes and walked through the bare grass, savoring the feeling on my feet. It was softer than any carpet and springy as well. I walked about till I found a small clearing and flopped down into the middle of it.

Using my laptop bag as a pillow, I stared up at the night sky. The clouds were still blocking out the stars, but I found it beautiful. I reached up behind my head and pulled out a bag of Dr. Mason's beef jerky. The teriyaki flavored chunks of dried meat tasted like a gourmet meal. Freedom makes for an amazing spice.

I stuffed the empty bag in an empty pocket and drifted off with a small smile on my face. Sunrise was a few hours off, but it had been a long day and I definitely earned the right to sleep as long as I wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up to the sound of a clearing throat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes blearily before looking at the person tapping their foot and staring at me.

"Uh, good morning?"

My head was really fuzzy and my eyes were watering. I wasn't sure why at first, but then I realized that this was probably my first time in this life to be exposed to so much pollen. I sneezed once and focused on the person in front of me.

She was quite beautiful. Her vividly red hair flowed down her shoulders like a waterfall and her lightly tanned body was toned like an athlete's. She had the kind of body and face that would inspire painters throughout history. I found myself reminded all too well that I had begun going through puberty.

All of that paled before her eyes though.

She had the most vividly green eyes I had ever seen. They shone like emeralds. I was mesmerized for a few seconds before I managed to pull myself together. I shook my head to clear the fog from my brain. She stood there without speaking, patiently glaring at me.

"I'm sorry, was this your spot?"

Her eyes narrowed a bit more, and she spoke with a smooth but firm voice. The plants swayed to a breeze I couldn't feel as she put her hands on her hips.

"This is my home."

My head wasn't clearing up. Everything was stuffy. I sniffled slightly before nodding apologetically and looking around.

"Sorry, it was so beautiful that I couldn't resist. I had never seen plants in person before today."

She pursed her red lips and raised an eyebrow at me. The breeze shaking the plants disappeared. I pulled up into a cross-legged sitting position and watched her, feeling incredibly awkward. My nose had started running, but I didn't have any tissues. I settled for using the receipt for the donuts that I had bought earlier. It was awkward and at first, I just smeared it around, but I eventually managed to clean it up properly. I didn't want to make a bad impression on this pretty lady by dripping all over the place or wiping my nose with my hand.

When she spoke again she sounded a lot less annoyed and threatening. I was still intimidated, but that was because of how beautiful and dignified she was, not because she was scary.

"You've never seen plants before? Explain."

My sinuses throbbed badly, but I ignored it as I answered.

"I was raised in a lab since I was a toddler. I never left the building, so I only knew about plants from books and videos. They had these stupid plastic plants as decorations, which is stupid. It's like they were too lazy to take care of real plants. I asked for a plant when I was seven, but they refused..."

Why did I just tell her all that?

The lady's eyes widened in shock. She looked me over and seemed to notice my hospital scrubs for the first time. My sinuses throbbed once more as she asked me for my name and story. I wiped my nose one more time before speaking.

"My name is C23… Umm, no wait, it's Vincent, Vincent Irving. I was sold to some lab when I was three years old. They were doing some sort of experimental procedure on a bunch of kids, and I was the only survivor. They put me through the tests and training for ten years. I only found out a week ago that they were doing it for this old geezer."

My disgust never showed through my natural poker face as I continued.

"The old crackpot was planning on using some sort of weird machine to transfer his mind into my body. He wanted to be an immortal superhuman, and that was the way he was planning on achieving it."

The lady stared at me in shock. I found myself waiting patiently for her to pull herself together. I watched a variety of emotions flicker across her face, mostly anger, but I thought I caught a hint of empathy and recollection for a brief moment. She struggled to regain her composure. She paced back and forth as the plants around her seemed to writhe and twist under the influence of the wind.

"How did you escape?"

The throbbing had eased off. I still felt like I ought to tell her everything, but I forced myself to give a half-truth.

"The Goblin broke me out. He stole a bunch of stuff and blasted his way out. If it wasn't for him I doubt I would have been able to leave."

She seemed curious about the Goblin, and my quick description left her puzzled. I would have been surprised if she recognized it though, considering I had only become him for a couple of hours at most.

I sat there awkwardly for a moment, watching her think. Eventually, I spoke up. It felt oddly rude though.

"So... May I stay here for a while? I don't have anywhere to go and I can't exactly reveal my identity; I don't want them to catch me again."

The woman hesitated for a moment. I got the impression that it wasn't that she was unwilling, but that she wanted to consider the whole situation before making a decision. In the end, she nodded. I forced a smile past my naturally deadpan expression.

"Thank you very much."

She smiled back and I felt my heart skip a beat. I shifted a bit and stood up as something occurred to me.

"I'm sorry, I never even asked your name."

The lady blinked once then answered.

"Call me Doctor Isley."

Only ten years of experience keeping my emotions from showing kept me from reacting. I forced a smile and shook her hand while a phrase that was quickly becoming familiar went through my mind.

'Oh right… This is Gotham.'


	5. Chapter 5

Finding out that I had accidentally wandered into a supervillain's lair was quite a surprise. It certainly had been a wake-up call. If it was ten years ago, I would have never wandered into an abandoned conservatory in Gotham.

For the next few days, I hung out in Poison Ivy's hideout. She didn't tell me her nom de guerre, and I was very careful not to let on that I knew it. She was surprisingly nice. It was really fun looking at all the plants and hearing her talk about them. I didn't have the sniffles anymore, so I spent a lot of time in the 'safe' areas of the conservatory. There were other areas that I was forbidden to visit, and I wasn't going to disobey.

Dr. Isley had been wonderfully hospitable, and I wasn't going to sabotage our friendship _and_ get myself eaten by giant carnivorous plants just to satisfy my curiosity.

At the moment I was working on setting myself up for the future. Aside from creating a new identity, I was also using my technical authority and a few back doors in their system to gut Daedalus incorporated financially. The main reason was to get more money, but revenge was a nice bonus. Most of it had been bought up by Wayne Enterprises and Lexcorp. I seriously doubted the old geezer was going to be able to get much back, especially from a cutthroat like Lex Luthor.

It wouldn't take long for me to get a new name and identity. Doctor Isley had helped me. I had chosen Norman Osborn as my new name. I had been feeling silly then. It wasn't like anyone in this universe would get the reference either, so I could get away with it.

I was leaning against a tree and surfing the web. As it turns out, this 'abandoned' conservatory had pretty good internet. I had a couple of windows up. The computer wasn't the greatest, but I could still access the stock market while watching cartoons. I had about ten years of TV to catch up on and a lot of money to invest.

My meals lately had been pretty unbalanced. It was a mix of beef jerky and fresh fruits and veggies. Doctor Isley asked me why I had so much and she laughed when I told her. Apparently, she didn't eat much other than what she grew herself, but she was happy to help me enjoy Doctor Mason's food.

In the future, I was going to get myself a home and go to school. It wasn't like I had to, but I had my reasons. I didn't want to impose on Doctor Isley, and if I was honest, I needed my privacy. I also wanted some social interaction with kids my age, even if I had to suffer through school to get it. Memories aside, it felt like my mental age had degraded, not to mention how my imprisonment had made my social skills suffer.

The weather was nice. It was sorta sunny out, which was about the best I could expect from Gotham. So far the night had been always cloudy, and it would only occasionally clear during the day. I kind of get why the bat signal was considered a dependable method now.

Dr. Isley was usually busy, so I was by myself most of the time. I didn't need much sleep, which made the days pretty long as well. On the other hand, there was plenty of stuff I could do now, along with stuff I needed to do. I wouldn't be getting bored for a while yet, but I would get stir crazy if I didn't leave soon.

Luckily, I had started my new 'hobby' as a superhero.

The night couldn't come soon enough. In the end, I really couldn't wait, so I just made sure that Dr. Isley wasn't around before sneaking off. It was just before sunset, and the light was already dreary and dim. It felt like the sun didn't have the stamina for a full day and gave up early.

I made sure I was a good distance from the conservatory before finding a hiding spot to transform. Sneaking around here was both easy and surprisingly tricky. There never were that many people around at night, but those who were had the kind of wariness you only got from criminals and people who had been forced to live around criminals.

It took a bit, but I did find an opportunity to hide away and transform. I started sweating biomechanical armor that formed into my goblin persona. I threw out another glob of the stuff, and it bulged and swelled into the form of my glider. Once I was fully transformed I hopped onto it and zipped off into the night.

At first, I had just flown about, looking for any crimes in progress. The obvious problem with that is how reactive it tends to be. If I plan on making a difference, I was going to make it a big one. Stopping muggers would be a bonus, but my goal was to punch the source of the problem.

Societal problems don't have a face per se, or at least none that could be punched, but there would always be people who make the problem worse and people who make the problem better. I had money and strength now, so there was a lot I could be doing to make the world a nicer place.

The drug lords would be a good place to start. My 'parents' probably wouldn't have sold me if they hadn't been addicts who'd given up on life.

Finding them was proving to be tricky though. This was the town that Batman operated, so the smart criminals were good at hiding. There was more to it than that though. I was quickly discovering how ...unique, Gotham's underworld was.

All the supervillains in the city meant that the normal crime lords couldn't operate here. Sure, the mafia was really dangerous, but guys like Two-Face and The Penguin were more so. That wasn't even counting metas like Killer Croc. Supervillains filled niches and pushed out all sorts of competition.

The criminals of Gotham were split between nobodies and the supervillains and their henchmen. Random muggers and tiny gangs were too unimportant for the supervillains to get rid of, but the groups that were normally considered the big leagues, the mafia and the like, had all left for greener pastures.

It was weird, but the costumed crazies actually lowered the crime rate. Of course, it was still Gotham, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. That weirdness meant I had two choices for targets. Muggers or the people that regularly tussled with freaking Batman. Now, I may be a low-level superhuman with a crazy biomechanical super suit and glider, but I'm not stupid.

I was sticking to thugs for now.

Even in a place like Gotham, crimes weren't constant or easy to find in time. Still, it wasn't hard to figure out the patterns. The times people left work, the spots where the seedier parts of the city bordered the better parts and a dozen other factors influenced things. If I put it all together, I could figure out the places and times where the criminals and victims encountered each other.

I may not have a supercomputer in a cave, but I _did _have a super brain given to me by evil scientists using mad science drugs and boosted by some crazy space cube. That was enough to let me guesstimate the best places to patrol. I had stopped a little over half a dozen crimes every night since figuring things out.

I hadn't met Batman yet, but then again, I hadn't expected to. The Justice League existed here, and even if it didn't, Batman had a healthy rogue's gallery. The caped crusader probably had his hands full. A guy like him would still patrol regularly, just to put the fear in the creeps of Gotham, but he wasn't out here every night.

"...!"

My ears perked up as they detected some distant shouting. I triangulated it and zipped off towards its source. If there was one thing I liked about the dreariness of Gotham nights, it was that the sullen silence of the city meant that any noise was easy to hear. The sound I heard came from a half dozen teens menacing some old office worker. I drifted over the ruckus quietly, keeping up out of sight.

At first, they seemed content to mock the poor man. They jeered at him in that nasty, high schooler way. They made fun of his receding hairline, his beer belly, and his age. It wasn't nice, but they weren't physically injuring him. Then one of them pulled a knife.

Before they could get too close, I produced a trio of my razor bats. Their blades popped out and started spinning like buzzsaws when I flicked them downward. They let out high pitched squeals as they cut through the air and sank into the concrete with little 'thunk' sounds. The man and the teens jumped. One even dropped his knife. They all looked up to see my brilliant grin.

"Hello gentlemen, mind if I 'cut' in?"

Most of them had tensed up. Even their victim looked nervous about my presence. One pointed a finger up at me, exclaiming:

"Shit, it's a meta!"

I started and opened my eyes wide, pointing downwards.

"Shit, it's Captain Obvious!"

I let the silence draw out for a few moments before stepping off my glider and landing on the ground. This was starting to be one of my favorite moments in stopping crimes. That moment where everyone focused on me, trying to decide whether to be scared or not, felt great. I let a smile slowly grow on my face till it was wider than humanly possible and the teenaged thugs decided, yes, they were scared.

"You lot haven't done much more than be a bunch of shitty teenagers. Honestly, acting like this? You guys deserve a bit of a beating. I'm leaving the choice up to you though."

A few of the more defiant ones twitched and the most scared of the group were unwilling to leave the safety of their little group. It was a good opportunity to try and give them a wake up call. I let the smile fall from my face and jerked a thumb back at the man behind me.

"This guy, he's the kind of man that goes to work every damn day and gets the shit done that no one else does. He's the guy who earned his place in life with years of effort and no small amount of grit. _You guys_ are just a bunch of shithead teenagers who got so scared of the future you stopped trying and settled for lashing out to make yourselves feel better. You're being petty, nasty idiots. Life's about second chances, so I'll give you ten seconds to get out of my sight."

I got to five and pulled out a razor bat. The click of the blades appearing set them running. As soon as I was sure they were gone I slipped it away and turned to the older man.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Uhm… Yes, thank you."

I kept my smile small and inoffensive as I had my glider lower down to waist level. I plopped on the edge of a wing. The man was breathing heavy and looked like he was seconds from an asthma attack.

"Listen, do you need a ride home? I'll fly it low and slow if that makes you nervous."

For a second I thought he was going to refuse, then he nodded, although hesitantly. He walked over and pulled himself up next to me. I lifted the glider so his feet were just a few inches off the ground.

"You know, you're the first person I've carried on this. I really ought to be giving a beautiful young woman a flight on this thing while singing Disney songs, but hey, what can you do?"

He snorted but didn't say anything. The glider's hum made a nice background noise as I hummed 'I can show you the world' under my breath. We didn't get very far before the man caught his breath and asked to be let down. He probably didn't want me seeing where he lived. There was no doubt that he was thankful I saved him, but paranoia was a survival trait in Gotham.

Something flickered at the corner of my vision, but I didn't catch what it was. It probably was my imagination, but I decided to speed up a bit as I left to avoid being followed or attacked. It could have been a windswept newspaper, some more stealth-oriented supervillain, or the Bat himself. Either way, I wasn't going to waste this nice night trying to find out.

The rest of the night was relatively quiet. I stopped a minor robbery before it started and two more muggings. I could see why the other superheroes did this regularly. It might not be the most efficient use of my time, but _man_ does it feel good.

I couldn't keep this up forever though, at least not just this. I needed to take steps to _prevent_, not just act as a cure. Convincing people like those teens not to take a step down the wrong path would help, but there was no guarantee that they would listen. The teens were a good example of that. I seriously doubted they had listened to whatever I said.

Still, I planted the seed, so they would at least remember it.

What I needed to do was take away the _reason_ people committed crimes. Everyone, from supervillains to random thugs, had something that happened to turn them to crime. If that was solved, it was possible that they would never hold up another bank or steal from another museum.

Poison Ivy was a good example. She wasn't a bad person, but the event that turned her into a superpowered eco-terrorist was traumatizing and made her hatred for humanity in general and males specifically much, much worse. Combined with the nature of her powers and it was a wonder that she wasn't _worse_. There were things I could do to help her, but they were difficult and expensive.

I would do what I could for her though. I owed her enough to at least try.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bit of an odd chapter this time, hope you like it.**

**I don't own DC, Marvel, or any other comic companies.**

I was so glad I got an advanced placement.

High schoolers had turned out to be a lot more immature than I remembered. And I would have started in _eighth_ grade. It was a nightmare that I was glad to have _mostly_ avoided. Doing homework was already going to be a mind-numbing waste of time, so I may as well skip over the worst of it.

The biggest reason I had chosen to go back to school wasn't because I thought I needed the education. Having a high school diploma would be useful, especially for getting into a college or university, but it wasn't really _necessary_. Honestly, it wouldn't be that hard to get a high school diploma or even a college degree without being trapped among these hormone-filled emotional teenagers, but I was here to become one of them. As unpleasant as that sounded, it would actually be a step up in a lot of ways.

I wanted to go to high school again was because I was an emotionally stunted headcase. It wasn't easy to admit, but I couldn't deny it. The fact that I couldn't show emotion without transforming into the Goblin made that pretty evident.

The way I figured, a social crucible like high school was about the exact opposite of the lab I grew up in. I couldn't exactly go to a therapist, doctor/patient confidentiality or not. I also really, _really_ didn't want to end up in Arkham Asylum. At least at a high school, I would be able to remind myself how teenagers are _supposed_ to act.

It wasn't a waste of time either. The super serum and weird alien artifact boosting my brain made me an awesome multitasker. I didn't have access to the internet, but anything I learned since fusing with the cube would stick in my head. Having an almost perfect memory and a brain capable of advanced calculations as I went about my day made things much easier. I could go over my plans for 'making the world a better place' and figure out the best and most efficient options I could while sitting in class.

Being forced to wait and go over my plans instead of just _doing_ something sucked, but I was still a minor. Getting anything done without jumping through a million hoops and resorting to questionably legal methods was basically impossible. I wasn't going to be able to progress most of my plans until I became an emancipated minor a year from now.

The stares I got as a thirteen-year-old senior were awkward. It was already obvious that I was being sized up by bullies. It might have been better to go straight to college; at least there the people were more likely to act like adults.

The teachers were nice enough though. Most of them were that perfect balance of idealistic and experienced that the best teachers were, and none of the ones I'd met so far seemed jaded. I might find out that they were faking it for the 'prodigy' later on, but I hoped not.

My first few classes hadn't been much of a surprise. It was the usual mix of students who cared and paid attention and the ones who didn't and didn't. Aside from the outfits and body language, I couldn't really guess which cliques everyone belonged to yet.

Lunchtime though, that was when I got a personal introduction to Gotham high's social structure.

"So you're the brat who thinks he's so much smarter than the rest of us?"

When the lanky teen got into my personal space. I blinked blankly and looked over my shoulder before looking back at him and staring.

"I don't even know you, how could I think I'm better than you?"

The bully seemed to stall a moment from my emotionless reaction. Something like that wasn't going to stop him long though.

"You trying to be smart?"

"A little bit, sorry."

There was a crowd now, and the tall teen was suffering from stage fright. I had to revise my opinion of him from 'bully' to 'wannabe bully.' He was probably trying to ascend the social ladder in one of the more unpleasant ways available to high schoolers. I cut him off and stuck out a hand.

"Call me Norman."

"...I'm Rick?"

"Pleased to meet you, I'm heading to lunch, wanna come?"

The poor guy looked like he was suffering from whiplash. He mumbled something and retreated into the crowd which dispersed on its own when nothing interesting happened. The rest of the trip was uneventful. For now, people were content to stare. Only time would tell if I was going to need to deal with more bullies.

I had brought my own lunch. I wouldn't have really been able to call myself a genius if I hadn't. School cafeteria food was _not_ something I wanted to eat regularly unless I had no choice. Whatever Gotham High spent its funds on, actual food wasn't part of it. Even their bananas didn't look trustworthy. I'd rather starve than eat whatever the greyish lump they had labeled 'meatloaf' was.

I plopped myself down to enjoy the last of my beef jerky and an apple that Doctor Isley had given me. The apple was so crunchy and juicy that I had to avoid dripping everywhere. To keep busy I pulled out a history book and opened it to next week's lessons. I almost didn't notice when a trio of teens set their lunches on the table and slid onto the benches.

"Mind if we sit here?"

I nodded and wiped my mouth with the edge of my paper bag. I didn't have a napkin since the wastefulness would upset Doctor Isley. Even if she didn't know I used one, it would feel too much like a betrayal. I looked up at the three and debated forcing a fake smile but decided against it.

"Not at all. Pleased to meet you, please call me Norman."

"I'm Jason, this is Cass, and the brat's name is Tim."

Tim gave the older teen a glare. Jason's response was a smirking grin and a shrug.

Cass smiled and moved her hands. It took me a second to recognize that she was using sign language. My brain was too busy trying to tell me something to interpret her motions. Something about those three was strange. They wore slightly baggy that mostly hid the fact that they were all insanely physically fit, but did nothing to hide the the way they moved so smoothly and silently. I shoved the niggling feeling away and lifted my hands to use sign language myself.

{Sorry, what was that?}

The two boys stopped arguing and eyed me oddly for a second. Knowing sign language wasn't actually that weird or uncommon. It was just that the majority of people didn't bother unless they know someone who is deaf or mute. The only reason I knew it was because it was part of the creepy old geezer's wish list of skills that I had to learn. I think he'd been hoping that the muscle memory carried over or something.

Cass smiled a bit wider and signed back at me.

{I was just saying hello, and you don't have to use sign language, I can understand you just fine.}

"Ah, right."

The pause was a bit awkward. We ate a bit to pretend that the conversation hadn't stalled. After a moment, Tim set aside a sandwich and coughed lightly.

"So, did you just move to Gotham?"

"No, I've lived here all my life."

The three of them very pointedly did _not_ exchange glances. I might have missed it if my subconscious hadn't been screaming something in the back of my head. It wasn't how they reacted that caught my attention, it was the way the stopped themselves from reacting. They were subtle, so I almost didn't notice. Jason replied casually.

"Cool, which school?"

"None, I was tutored until recently."

Tim's eyes almost flicked towards Jason at that, though Cass stared at me with mild interest. Jason didn't seem to act differently though.

"So, _that's_ why you are in the senior classes? Good tutors?"

It sounded like he was trying to imply I wasn't smart or something similar. He probably had been trying to get a reaction, but there was no way that was happening. If I could hide my emotions while Allen the security guard smacked me around, then there was no way a little insult was going to do anything.

"School isn't as hard as people think. Most of it is learning how to study and regurgitate facts. Actually learning is harder than getting good grades. Some of it, like a lot of our history lessons, isn't even true."

The three of them gave me a skeptical look so I continued.

"Who invented peanut butter?"

"George Washington Carver."

"Right, except he didn't. The Incas and Aztecs were the first to grind peanuts into a paste, and Marcellus Gilmore Edson was the man who developed the modern version. George Washington Carver was an agriculturalist who created a bunch of peanut recipes as part of his campaign to help the South's economy, which at the time relied on a single export. He introduced a number of methods like crop rotation to prevent soil depletion. His work was vital to the economic development of the South."

They looked at me blankly for a second, but I just shrugged.

"Just an example. It's not really important for most people."

Cass frowned thoughtfully and nodded.

{Who would it be important to?}

"Historians and agriculturalists, mostly."

"And you plan to be one of those?"

"I like to keep my options open."

They exchanged a look and nodded. We continued to make slightly awkward small talk until lunch was over and went our separate ways. It wasn't until I was alone that I got the chance to listen to the niggling voice in the back of my mind.

Jason, Tim, and Cass. They were perfectly normal names, but their behavior told me that they weren't. I didn't connect the dots until I realized that Cass was probably short for Cassandra though. After that, I was fairly certain that those three were members of the Bat Clan.

They were a bit young, and I never expected to meet them in high school, but that had to be them. Cassandra Cain hadn't been able to speak in the comics either, and the odds of another mute with that name living in Gotham is astronomically low. Once I realized it though, it was blindingly obvious. This was starting to get frustrating. As soon as I got out of school, I was going to look up _every _weirdo in a cape and spandex, not just the villains.

**Thank you, everyone, for the reviews. It looks like a lot of people really have an emotional investment in the debate on superhero morality, which is awesome. I should probably make something clear here. I don't particularly believe that the 'DC' superhero philosophy of not killing is wrong. They haven't failed humanity by failing to execute men and women like the Joker, ****society and the justice system has****. The Justice Lords and Injustice Superman are extreme, over-the-top examples of what the Justice League could become if they decided they were above the law, but they aren't exactly wrong.**

**The reason Norman Osborn is not going to be a hero, despite Goblin's behavior, is because he seeks to be a ****_cure_**** for societies ills. Eventually, I hope to have him talk to Lex Luthor about this, and I'll make his position better known then. Norman isn't going to be another amoral SI/OC that is constantly scrabbling for power and pretending to be a good guy while assassinating villains behind the scenes. He's actually going to be relatively open about his plans to do more than remove the symptoms of the world.**

**...He may still become a bit more amoral than he originally planned to be though. He's already breaking laws left and right to ensure that he has an identity and he'll keep doing it to help others. The fact that the cube and Goblin are gonna make him a little nutty isn't going to help either. Despite that, he's planning on making as many happy endings as he can, short term and long term.**

**I don't exactly agree with his approach. The reason I'm writing it like this is because I thought it would be interesting and that it was a good way to show how someone with money, brains, and power could effect some decent changes in ****_a_**** DC universe.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's the chapter! Also, I'm not gonna do the "#$ ^&" swears anymore. I think I first tried it because I always found it funny in newspaper comics, but it just doesn't work in a written medium like this. …And I really shouldn't have needed other people to tell me that.**

Cassandra Cain was raised, practically from birth, to practice martial arts. Her mother and the other people who raised her had deliberately refrained from talking around her to avoid any distractions. It had worked beyond their wildest dreams. It worked. Fighting was her first language. Of course, that had consequences. Cassandra Cain's upbringing left her unable to speak.

She could still communicate, but she was limited to body language and sign language. Her brain had developed differently than a normal child's, leaving her physically incapable of learning to talk, but with a mind that understood martial arts in a way that no one else could hope for.

Some days, she doubted it was worth it. Going to high school often reminded her of the childhood she'd been robbed of and the skills she could never master. Fighting as the new Batgirl let her use her skills in a way that felt good, but there was always that tiny voice in the back of her head that reminded her of what her skills had _really_ been meant for. She was incredibly thankful for her new family. All of them, including her, banded together to help each other.

She could use her skills to make a difference, and because she chose to, not because she had to.

To her, people were an open book. Their every movement was a declaration of their thoughts and intent. Spending a short time with anyone let her know more about them than most people could imagine. It was how she knew she belonged here. That short, awkward conversation with Vincent Irving, aka Norman Osborn, had been unnerving and enlightening.

"Report. What did you learn about the target?"

"He's a weirdo."

Jason and Cassandra rolled their eyes at that. They didn't disagree though. Batman radiated disapproval that Robin ignored. One thing Cassandra always noticed though, was the minute way that Batman relaxed when they had these interactions. Whether he knew it or not, Batman did find his family's antics funny.

"Jason?"

"Sorry, but Tim summed it up pretty well. The guy is definitely not normal. Red Tornado shows more emotion than him. He talks a bit oddly too. I dunno how to describe it. He's definitely Daedalus's little escapee though. _That's_ pretty obvious."

"Yeah, it's weird, but he kept accidentally implying it. He also seemed to prefer giving misleading answers and lying by omission whenever we asked questions."

"Cassandra?"

{He moves like he's been trained in a variety of different martial arts and is in exceptional physical condition for his age. He doesn't show any emotion, not even in his body language. He talks and acts like normal, but he doesn't have any expressions and there's no emotion on his face or in his movements. It _is_ kinda creepy.}

Jason and Tim nodded rapidly.

"I dunno if it was the drugs they pumped him as a kid that did it or if the way they raised him, but he may as well be a brick wall for all the emotion he shows."

"The funny thing is that he doesn't talk _that_ much differently than normal. I mean, his voice stays deadpan no matter what he says, but he doesn't phrase things the way you would expect an emotionless person would."

"Anything else?"

{He seems to be very intelligent, but impulsive.}

Jason looked over at Cassandra with a frown.

"Really? He was a bit of a know it all, but I didn't get any impulsive vibes from him."

{I might be wrong, it was just an impression, and he is hard to read.}

Tim nodded at that, grinning slightly.

"He certainly wasn't violently impulsive."

"Oh yeah! He got cornered in the hall by Rick. He didn't even seem to notice that Rick was trying to bully him."

{Emphasis on trying. He de-escalated the situation easily.}

"I see... What do you think the chances of him being the Goblin are?"

The three of them shrugged at that.

"Not sure, but I doubt it. From what Commissioner Gordon said, the Goblin was a _lot_ more expressive."

"Yeah, they are definitely different kinds of weirdo."

{I won't be sure unless I actually meet the Goblin, but my instincts say no.}

Batman nodded slowly.

"From what little I saw, I'd have to agree. The Goblin didn't seem to have any problem expressing emotions. I still wouldn't rule it out though. It's entirely possible he has multiple personality disorder or some odd variant."

Tim perked up a bit. He'd been the most excited since he'd heard about the new hero. Ever since Oracle alerted them to the Goblin's presence, he'd been pestering Batman to let him go meet Gotham's newest guardian.

"My patrol overlaps one of the spots he seems to prefer, can I go say hi? I might be able to find out for sure."

"No."

"Aww… C'mon! We already know he's a good guy!"

"He's a metahuman with unknown motivations, powers, and advanced technology. No"

Cassandra smirked slightly. Getting Batman to stop being overprotective was bad enough, but convincing him to stop paranoid? Tim was fighting a battle he'd already lost.

**We're going back to Norman's perspective next. I want to do a double release next, but the chapters are taking a while since it's really important I get them right. Either way, the next chapter(s) are going to be bigger.**


	8. Chapter 8

My first encounter with a supervillain _acting_ like a supervillain was educational. I couldn't actually see him doing his thing, but what I could _hear_ explained a lot about how they managed to be so successful.

It was the Ventriloquist. Or rather, Arnold Wesker and Scarface. 'They' were one of the supervillains who ruled the more conventional parts of the underworld, or rather, Scarface did. Most everything I'd found _here_ suggested that Scarface was just an alternate personality of Arnold. However, my previous life suggested that there was more going on than a simple multiple personality disorder.

He was one of the people one my list.

In the comics, Scarface had 'outlived' Wesker, They also implied that Scarface had a life of its own in several cartoon series. The memories of both were pretty fuzzy, but they gave me hope that an ...unorthodox treatment could help the poor man. Preparing for the first steps of his treatment was so easy that I had started getting ready for my encounter with Wesker a week ago. I needed to get rid of the evil ventriloquist dummy before I started though.

I'd spotted the two of them leaving a car that looked like it was made in the late thirties and entering an old wooden building in part of Gothams abandoned historic district.

He had a bunch of thugs with him, all dressed like stereotypical 1920's gangsters. Rhino, Scarface's right-hand leg-breaker, stuck out like a sore thumb. He was practically the size of a compact car, and according to what I'd dug up, about half as smart. I don't have a clue how he had fit inside the car though.

Sneaking in after them was been pretty easy. The creaky floors had been loud enough that my boosted ears could hear them from outside the building. I stayed one floor below them and listened in on their meeting.

It was a recruitment drive. The Ventriloquist had gathered a bunch of more modern gangs and was attempting to absorb them into his group.

I had to admit, as nutty and weird as the Ventriloquist was, he was certainly charismatic. They weren't the kind of men who trusted others. They didn't work their way to the top of their gangs by lacking ambition or a certain amount of ruthlessness. For a short, chubby man with a dummy to be able to draw them in and make them even _consider_ working for him was really impressive.

Not just anyone could get the kind of results he was getting just by talking, Not without a very big carrot and a very heavy stick. The fact that he did it with that dumb, psuedo-mob boss act made it even crazier.

"Gotham ain't the easiest place ta operate. You don't see many honest businessmen like us around here, mostly just freaks."

I felt myself smirking as I heard the Ventriloquist's audience shift awkwardly. None of them wanted to be the first to point out the hypocrisy.

Having my ear plastered up against the ceiling let me hear the wooden floor shift from their slight movements. It was easy to hear the chairs creak as they leaned forward in interest, or them leaning back and trying not to look at each other or say something that would get them riddled with holes from a puppet's miniature tommy-gun.

"Still, this city is a full piggybank ta those that got a big enough hammer. If youse lot can follow orders, I'll make sure every one of ya is rollin' in the dough. But if any of youse gets ideas…"

The wooden mafioso's voice lowered as he practically growled like a bulldog.

"You'll be sleepin' with the fish in Gotham harbor before the day ends, got it?"

I could hear the floorboards creak ever so slightly as most of them nodded. One or two of them didn't seem so agreeable. They shifted forward, probably to glare at either Scarface or his 'dummy.'

"And what's stopping us from cutting you out? Why should we listen to you?"

Arnold Wesker shoved a hand forward, probably the one holding Scarface. I thought I heard a click and I definitely heard Rhino's bulk shift as he stepped forward to loom over Wesker's shoulder.

"Sounds like you're getting ideas, but first I gotta ask: are ya stupid or are yer ears made a' wood?"

The guy stood up, offended, but Wesker's chair rattled as he turned towards the man and the gangster sat back down.

"Youse lot have got the muscle, but none of youse have the know-how to operate in a city like this. Gotham doesn't use the same rulebook other cities do. The freaks are coming out of the woodwork around here."

And _that_ was my cue.

I used an energy blast to 'soften' up the ceiling to make it easier to shove my head up through it. My head popped out of the floor with a burst of wood splinters. I gave the group of criminals a wide grin and spoke brightly.

"Someone call my name?"

The reactions were pretty entertaining. Everyone jumped, and a few of the out of town gangsters actually fell out of their chairs. Everyone was cussing up a storm, except Arnold Wesker, who yelped like a kicked dog. Strangely enough, Scarface was swearing as he did, which was either a really impressive demonstration of Arnold's skill at ventriloquism or evidence of Scarface's true nature.

I pulled myself up through the floorboards before they got their act together. Scarface and his gang reacted first. I was forced to run and jump about the room to avoid testing how bulletproof I was. It got harder when the out of towners got over their shock and started shooting too. While the other gangsters had modern firearms, the Ventriloquist's men all seemed to be equipped with Tommy-guns like Scarface was. Still, bullets were bullets.

And I would have bet at least a million that their guns were more modern than the outsides looked.

I cartwheeled and somersaulted around the room, cackling at the top of my lungs. This was strangely hilarious. I especially enjoyed their faces when I pulled down an eyelid and blew a raspberry at them. The morons got so pissed they blew through their ammo like drunks at a firing range. Scarface's men were better shots and stuck with burst fire, but even they ran out pretty quickly. It was pure chaos.

I was shocked that they didn't accidentally shoot each other.

"Neener neener!~ Your aims are as shitty as your faces!"

Once their bullets ran out, Scarface's men ran forward to fight hand to hand. The others hesitated a bit, but they eventually followed the locals' lead. A variety of knives were produced, from actual switchblades to more ridiculous stuff like meat cleavers. Rhino didn't have an edged weapon, but he did have a set of massive knuckle dusters that he slipped on.

I wasn't going to fight all of them. I _could_, but it seemed like an awful waste of time. I jumped back as if I was retreating and stepped next to the hole I'd left earlier. The glider on the lower floor fired a pair of pumpkin bombs up through the hole with a *foont foont* noise. I caught them out of the air and armed them, setting the explosive force to what I mentally referred to as 'riot control' and tossing them into the crowd.

The explosions were weird. Each 'bang' was accompanied by a short scream-like sound and a billow of green smoke. The thugs were each hit with a blast that must have felt like a tackle from a professional linebacker. It didn't do much damage to their soft tissues though, which didn't make any sense. Without a lab to help my tests I had been forced to chalk it up to either comic book physics or alien technology bullshit.

It still didn't make much sense to me for the cube to make me a copy of the Green Goblin, especially the one from the Spectacular Spiderman cartoon. But, it wasn't like I had any answers, so I had decided to roll with that too. It was pretty stylish, so I wasn't complaining.

Suddenly, Rhino barreled out of the smoke and charged at me, just like his namesake. It was a miracle his stomps didn't punch holes in the floor. He crossed the space between us in moments and swung a fist at me. On a whim, I decided to match his punch with one of my own. Our fists hit each other with a nasty cracking noise.

Despite the heavy lump of brass wrapped around his knuckles, punching his fist didn't hurt. It felt more like knocking on a door a bit harder than normal. The problem was how little mass I had compared to Rhino. Although to be fair, plenty of _bears_ were smaller than the enormous thug. My arm was knocked back and I lost my balance. His other hand smashed into me with an uppercut that knocked me flying.

I was slightly over a hundred and fifty pounds in my armor, but that one punch from the oversized mook bounced me off the ceiling and smashed me into the wall.

I wasn't injured at all. Unfortunately, Rhino couldn't say the same. The skin under his knuckle dusters had torn and the fingers of his right hand had probably been broken. He shook his hands with a grimace before glaring at me. The Rhino in marvel had superstrength and an animal themed suit of body armor, but this guy was just way bigger and stronger than any human had a right to be.

I was, as far as I could tell, at Captain America levels of strength without transforming. My small size meant that my stats were a bit lower than that, but I was still superhuman, if barely. However, _with_ my armor, I was a _lot_ stronger and tougher. It was difficult to estimate without proper measuring equipment. I managed to pick up a compact car, and could almost lift a normal-sized one.

It was a nice level of strength. Sure, I wasn't going to be able to fight Aquaman hand to hand, but that's not something to complain about. For most opponents, I had to be careful _not_ to use too much strength.

Rhino and I danced around the table, swinging at each other. He had a ridiculous reach, so I was forced to duck in, throw a punch, and zip out of the way. He also was willing to take a hit if it meant that he could get one of his own in, which wasn't something I wanted to encourage. I kept an eye on Albert, firing an energy blast at his feet whenever he tried to leave. This was a good opportunity to finetune my fighting technique against squishier people, and I wanted to take advantage of it.

Eventually, Rhino took one punch too many and collapsed to the floor with a boom. I straightened up and brushed my hands off with a grin.

"Welp, that was fun. Didn't think fighting a shithead the size of a fridge would be that cathartic, but there you go."

I turned to the Ventriloquist and started walking towards him while cracking my knuckles. Just when I was almost within arm's reach, a dark shape smashed through the window and flung something at me. I leaned back to dodge the batarang and turned to face Batman.

"Do you mind? I was just about to punch someone who _really_ deserved it."

Batman stalked over. Somehow, he managed to loom better than Rhino ever did, despite being about a foot shorter than the thug. The dark silhouette practically sucked the light out of the air. I kind of got why criminals treated him like the boogeyman now. He was _good_ at being scary.

"I'm not going to let you do that. Wesker doesn't deserve that sort of treatment."

I gave the hero my best shocked and offended expression. Part of me was, even if I had been deliberately misleading.

"Wesker? Wait, you thought I was gonna attack him? What kind of monster do you think I- ...You know what? I don't care. I'm after termites-for-brains here."

Albert made a relieved sound that was cut off by Scarface's enraged screech.

"Termite for brains!? I'll kill you, you halloween reject!"

Without any bullets in his little tommy gun, Scarface just wasn't that scary. Yeah, he was still unnerving, but his stupidly overdone accent made it a lot less creepy and more silly. I threw my arms out and thrust my chest out.

"Come at me pinocchio: I'll wreck your shit!"

Scarface let out a wordless scream of rage and lunged towards me, dragging Albert along with him somehow. Albert unconsciously pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and passed it to the ventriloquist doll. I waited till the last second before slapping Scarface hard enough to knock him off Albert's arm.

"Grah! Dummy! Grab me!"

"Yes Mister Scarface!"

Albert Wesker scrambled for Scarface. I quickly stepped forward and got between them. I'll admit I hesitated a bit, but I did step up to Wesker and give him a slightly awkward hug. Mostly to stop him from going after Scarface, but partially because He looked like he really needed a hug.

He flinched a bit, but didn't _really_ struggle. I had the feeling that without Scarface attached to him, Wesker wasn't going to make any aggressive actions. Turns out, I was right. I ignored how embarrassing and uncomfortable hugging a random stranger was.

He needed this. If I wasn't willing to do this to help him I wouldn't be able to claim that I was serious about my goal to help people.

"Hey. It's okay. You're okay."

"I…"

"Get over here Dummy!"

"Don't listen to him okay? Look at me. You don't have to do this."

"You need me! You're nothing without me!"

"H-he's right… I can't."

"No."

I pulled back and grabbed Albert's shoulders. He stiffened with shock and looked at me wide eyed. I stared at him as seriously as I could.

"You don't need him. _He_ needs _you_."

"I-"

"No. Listen to me. Look at him."

I kept a hand on his shoulder and stepped to the side, letting him see Scarface flopped limply on the floor.

"Look at him. He can't even move without you. If you walk out the door right now, he won't be able to get up, he won't be able to commit any crimes, he won't even be able to _talk_. He depends on you, not the other way round."

'Scarface' continued to shout insults, but strangely enough, Albert didn't seem to be listening. I took the time to reject and counter everything it said though. Scarface was still part of Albert Wesker, so I needed to answer his fears if I wanted to make any progress.

"You _will_ find someone who will help you. A friend and neighbor who won't force you to do this stuff and will be there for you. I promise."

Wesker sobbed and hugged me again. This time when we hugged it was a lot more sincere. We both ignored Batman, and when the police arrived they bundled him in a car separate from the group of gangsters and wannabe mafioso. I answered a few questions with Batman hovering behind me and the police drove off.

I waved to Albert while smiling reassuringly before speaking to Batman without turning around.

"Before we talk, there's something I need your help with."

Batman's eyes narrowed suspiciously but he followed me back up into the meeting room. I picked up Scarface and looked towards the superhero.

"Do you have Nth metal handcuffs? Holy water too."

Batman raised an eyebrow, which was weird to see with his cowl, and handed them over. The cuffs were thin and compact, and the vial of holy water was tiny, but the fact that he actually had them was impressive.

That utility belt really _did_ have anything and everything.

I clipped the cuffs around the ventriloquist puppet. It was awkward and wouldn't actually have bound him if he was animate, but I would work fine for my purposes. I popped open the holy water and sprinkled it over the puppet.

*Skree!*

The dummy screeched and its wooden body smoked and twitched. It didn't take long for it to settle down though. I wasn't sure if it was dead, so I didn't take off the cuffs as I handed it over to Batman, who took it carefully, like I'd handed him a bomb.

"Thought so. I'm guessing it's something nasty that latched onto Albert a while ago. I dunno what it is; might be a ghost or just coagulated spiritual evilness. Either way, it was given a convenient body thanks to a ventriloquist dummy made of wood from slaughter swamp and a connection to Albert via his multiple personality disorder. You might want to have someone in the League take a look, maybe put it down for good."

Batman looked down at Scarface then up at me, staring with an unreadable expression.

"You think this will cure him?"

"No. It might take the edge off though, give him a chance to recover. He'll probably struggle the rest of his life with his issues to a greater or lesser degree. Mental disorders aren't that easy to deal with though. I think we both know that all too well."

I internally flinched as the words left my mouth and Batman turned to skewer me with a glare.

We spent the next few seconds in a one sided staring contest. I looked everywhere _but_ at Batman, while he patiently waited for his gaze to set me on fire.

"...Um, sorry. That was a little rude."

"Why are you here?"

I suppressed a flinch at his tone.

"I want to make a difference."

He glared a bit harder, although he seemed less mad. I kept talking before he could cut me off.

"I'm ninety percent certain that you're like me. You didn't start out like _this_."

I gestured at myself, then him before continuing.

"It probably only took one day. One bad day that changed everything. I won't hypothesize on what yours was. You deserve your right to your privacy. I won't insult you by guessing what you would have been if it hadn't happened. But I do know this: Whatever it was, that event derailed everything about your life."

The sane, intelligent part of my brain was screaming about how _stupid_ it was to remind Batman of day his parents died. Even worse, my mouth apparently decided to use some half-baked, amateurish imitation of one of Joker's most iconic speeches. As soon as I realized that, the sane part of my brain just threw its hands in the air and stalked off to let the rest of me keep digging the hole I'd found myself in.

"This city, this world…. It's full of people who've had that one bad day. All of us got a taste of reality. We realized how horrible it could be, how unstable everything was. We went crazy. Most put on the costume and stop following the rules that don't make sense to them anymore. They give up on the world once they see how doomed it is."

I gave him a serious look, but I couldn't help the small, happy grin that appeared on my face.

"But some people, people like us, try to make the world a better place. Maybe we want to prevent others from dealing with what we had to, maybe we want to give people a second chance, maybe we want to make the world a happier saner place. I don't know. I wouldn't call us heroes though; people like us are just a bunch of nutjobs who are doing the only sane thing we can imagine."

Batman grunted. I couldn't really tell what he was thinking. I couldn't even read his emotions.

He turned without speaking and left the building. I heard the noise of a suppressed grappling hook. It made me sighed slightly.

"Well, that was rude. I was looking forward to his 'stealth hi/bye' thing too…"

Oh well, I had to get ready for phase two of my plan to help Albert Wesker.


	9. Chapter 9

**Another little interlude for all of you!**

Albert was terrified.

It wasn't being in Arkham that had him so nervous. The guards were good at keeping him safe from the others. It was knowing that Scarface was going to come here soon. He didn't want to depend on Scarface anymore. More importantly, he didn't think that he _had_ to anymore.

Goblin was… strange. Albert never had anyone do that for him, not that he could remember. The reassurances had been comforting and encouraging. The problem was, as much as he _wanted_ to believe the Goblin, he knew, _knew_ that he couldn't survive without Scarface.

He needed him.

Goblin's words still echoed in his mind. Scarface needed him too. He understood that now. The idea that there were other people who could help him, people who weren't as evil as Scarface, that was a comforting lie. Deep down, Albert knew that it wasn't true. He liked to dream though.

Then, when the police had driven him a few miles away from the building where the meeting had taken place, his connection with Scarface disappeared.

It was shocking, like ducking his head into a bucket of cold water. Suddenly, the Goblin's words made sense. Suddenly, he knew that he didn't have to follow Scarface anymore. Suddenly, he had real, tangible hope of not having to be an accessory to Scarface's crimes. He was free.

Albert cried the rest of the way to Arkham.

Now, trapped safely in Arkham, Albert had a new worry that surfaced in his head. What would happen if Scarface came back? He always did. Even when his body was destroyed, Scarface somehow came back. Sometimes he was delivered to Arkham and was brought to Albert, and sometimes Albert himself was the one who fashioned Scarface a new body.

Would Scarface's return mean that Albert would be trapped again? Was there no escape?

That was why he nearly screamed six days later when a box the size of a ventriloquist dummy was delivered to his room. Scarface was back, he knew it.

At first, Albert refused to open the box. He shoved it into the corner of his room and didn't look at it. Of course, he couldn't do that forever. Eventually, he had to open it. For a second he heard a voice in his head that sounded like the Goblin telling him not to, but the voice was wrong. He had to, otherwise Scarface would be mad.

He eventually opened it, and Scarface wasn't there to curse him. Something, someone else was there, staring up with a kindly smile.

The ventriloquist dummy was modeled after an older man, one with wrinkles gained from a lifetime of smiling. His wooden hair was painted to look as if it was just starting to grey as well. He wore a red, button-up sweater with a blue shirt and a tie. His outfit was tied together with loose-fitting slacks and a pair of blue sneakers. Albert unconsciously lifted the puppet out of the box and slid his hand into its back.

The puppet turned to meet Albert's eyes with a friendly smile and spoke.

"Hello Albert, my name is Mister Rogers, and I'd like to be your friend."

Albert's heart surged with happiness for just a second, but then a horrible thought popped into his head. He wasn't worth befriending. There was nothing to like about him. Albert told Mister Rogers so in a long, despairing speech, with sobs sprinkled throughout it. Mister Rogers just sat patiently and listened. Then, when Albert's voice trailed off, he unknowingly set Mister Rogers' hand on his arm, and a kind, loving voice filled the room.

"Albert, there's no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are."

From that moment on, Albert Wesker knew he never had to worry about Scarface again.

**Norman is based **_**partially**_ **on me, that's why it's an SI/OC. I know that I wouldn't be able to help Wesker, probably not even with a super-serum and an outer-space artifact enhancing my intelligence. But I know who could, and so does Norman. (My headcanon is that Mister Rogers doesn't exist in DC. The ventriloquist dummy is just channeling him through the sheer power of his awesome kindness.)**


	10. Chapter 10

As time rolled by I adjusted to school. Being around teens never became pleasant, and I never regained my emotional responses, but I learned to deal with it. I definitely was looking forward to getting out of here, even if it wasn't as bad as last time.

I never got bullied, at least not physically. Everyone tended to ignore me though. I suspect it was mostly due to my lack of emotions. The expressionless way I reacted to everything meant I wasn't a fun target and despite being at the top of my class, no one felt threatened by me. To the people obsessed with grades it was obvious that I had some sort of mental disorder, so I didn't count in their mental rankings.

Thankfully, high school hadn't stopped me from making plenty of progress preparing for the future. I had managed to secure some great investments and make sure that more money was coming in than going out. My status as a minor had made things more complicated, but things went well as long as I jumped through the right hoops and greased the right palms. I wouldn't be able to go public for a while though.

A kid could start a business on their own, but without being a legal adult or having a legal guardian, I lacked certain advantages. I would be vulnerable to all the greedier, morally bankrupt businessmen. It just wasn't worth it.

I had my own space now, a nice little house way off at the edge of town. It gave me all the privacy I needed. It was under a different name since a minor like Norman Osborn buying a house would draw too much attention. I'd been very careful not to put all my eggs in one basket, which was much safer but made things awkward and inconvenient.

Of course, not everything I did was safe. I couldn't help occasionally doing stuff that was stupid or reckless. It was definitely a bad idea to have a scrapbook full of news articles about the fall of Daedalus incorporated. People would ask a lot of uncomfortable questions if they found it, but I liked keeping it around to read whenever I needed a pick-me-up. Apparently they couldn't figure out whether to place the creepy old man in an asylum or dose him up with antipsychotics and stuff him in an old folks' home.

It was wonderful just relaxing in my new living room and enjoying the schadenfreude of my enemies' fate or researching stuff for my plans. I could feel everything coming together.

I still preferred hanging out at Dr. Isley's though. There was something wonderfully peaceful and relaxing about spending time in a place filled with so much nature and vitality. Compared to the smog-filled atmosphere of the rest of the city, her home was _literally_ a breath of fresh air.

I wasn't the only visitor though.

"Hey~! How's little Norm doing?"

I sat up and looked at Dr Harleen Quinzel as she strolled up the path, grinning widely. I'd known she was Harley Quinn from the start, but she hadn't tried very hard to hide it. She scrubbed off her makeup and wore less iconic clothes, but her attitude made it pretty obvious that she wasn't a normal doctor of any type.

"Hello Dr. Quinzel, I'm doing great, how are you?"

"Doin' fine! And I've already told you, call me Harleen!"

I nodded and patted the grass next to me.

"Dr Isley is working on something right now, she should be out in a bit though."

Harley pulled off her shoes before walking onto the grass. That was one of the rules in Ivy's home; no shoes on the grass. The reason was to avoid trampling any plants, but the feeling of the soft grass on bare feet was nice enough that no one thought to complain. Harley flopped down beside me and folded her arms behind her head.

"So, how's Red doing lately? You two have been working on something special, but both of you have been a bit sparse on the details."

I sighed and put my thoughts in order. She asked the question offhandedly, but I felt obligated to answer seriously. This was important, and I wasn't going to lie to Ivy's best friend.

"First, I have to ask you a question. What is Dr. Isley's ultimate goal?"

She twitched a bit at that.

"...Saving the Earth."

"Not quite. She wants to save all plant life. _Specifically_ plant life. Anything else is a bonus. And thanks to all the pollution, well... As far as she's concerned, humanity is the enemy."

That got a flinch from Harley. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

"Save it. We both know she's an eco-terrorist and has some pretty bad mental issues. But she is a good person under those thorns and she's our friend."

"Yeah…"

Harley relaxed a bit at that. She still looked sad though. I tried to force a comforting smile on my face for a few seconds but gave up.

"Her goal is admirable, even if her methods are not. The problem is that she isn't making any progress. It doesn't matter how many pollution producing factories she destroys. Two more will pop up to replace them."

"...So, you've known this whole time?"

Oops… I hadn't meant to let that slip. It was easy to forget to watch my words. It might be because of the cube, but lately I noticed that my speech had changed. Lying without any tells was criminally easy with my lack of body language or expressions, but I tended to unconsciously hint or imply a lot of stuff. I supposedly was super-intelligent, but I was as subtle as a thrown brick and a bit too impulsive.

"Yes. I haven't said anything because I'm waiting for her to tell me. I know, and she knows that I know, and I'm pretty sure she knows I know she knows that… Um…"

Harley snickered at me.

"Don't hurt yourself there kid."

"Ahem, anyway... If she's more comfortable pretending to hide her identity, I'll let her. I owe her that much and more."

Harley relaxed back into the grass with a wide smile on her face.

"You're a good kid. Wait, do you know who I am too?"

I sat up and gave her a nod.

"Of course, it's obvious. What other woman with your joie de vivre would hang out with Poison Ivy?"

After a dramatic pause I continued.

"You're Catwoman."

I stared blankly at Harley's flabbergasted expression. She looked utterly gobsmacked for a few seconds before she started laughing. It started as tiny giggles that got louder and louder. Soon, she was rolling about on the grass, holding her stomach and kicking her legs. Her laughter echoed throughout the conservatory, filling the air.

It was amazing how... honest, her laughter was. Considering her origin story, it was almost a miracle. Part of me thought I should be jealous, I couldn't laugh like that, or at all without becoming the Goblin. But I could never feel bad when she laughed. It was too pure.

"Heehee~ Aww man, you really do surprise me sometimes."

"I _can_ feel emotions, such that they are. It's just that I can't seem to manage to express them. I got out of the habit early on, and I lost the ability along the way."

Her expression got a little awkward for a moment before she forcibly changed the subject.

"Wait, we got off track! You were telling me what the two of you were up to."

"Oh right, it's pretty simple. The greedy people use methods that cause pollution because that way makes them the most money. Dr. Quinzel is developing methods of mass-producing fertilizer that produces no toxic waste and better variants of different crops. Once it's all ready and I'm a legal adult I'll create a company to market it.

"If we do it right, farms and companies around the world will fall over themselves trying to get our stuff. By tying it to 'my' new company we can avoid the stigma that comes with the eco-terrorist label. The money it makes will let us develop new technologies and fund or create organizations to improve the world. I don't know if it will save the environment, but at the very least it will help stop things from getting worse. Eventually, humanity will eventually figure out how to protect the environment and undo the damage that's already been done."

Harley let out a long, impressed whistle.

"You don't think small do you?"

"It's a big world."

She grinned and nodded. Before we could continue we caught sight of Ivy walking up. I gave a short wave too.

"Did you finish it?"

Ivy held out a hand and wobbled it back and forth.

"The potatoes are genetically robust enough to avoid most diseases. I've also managed to breed back in a lot of the positive traits of their wild ancestors to make it more resistant to drought and extreme temperatures as well. The problem is that there are too many problems that need to be solved before your plan is viable. The biggest issue is that removing the plant's toxins makes it vulnerable to parasites. Removing that so it can be mixed with livestock feed will cause more problems than it solves. Creating new versions of common nitrogen-fixing plants isn't that hard, but getting all the options you want is going to be impossible."

I sighed. That was a bummer.

"We may have to give up on that unless we find a new set of plants that will work."

Harley looked between us, looking confused.

"Can I get an explanation?"

I nodded. "Sure, but first you have to learn where I got the idea."

I coughed quietly to clear my throat and went into storyteller mode.

"A farmer, who had a mound in the middle of his field, resolved not to let it go to waste, and plowed it along with the flat ground. When he did, the troll who lived inside the hill came out and yelled at the farmer for plowing up his roof. Eventually, they decided that it was a shame not to use such good farmland, so the troll would let the farmer use the mound. In exchange, the troll would get half the crops."

Harley was sitting with her knees up and her hands under her chin, pretending to be a kid at storytime. I did see a twinkle of real interest under her silly act though so I kept going.

"The first year, it was decided that the troll would get the top half, and the farmer would get the bottom half. Unfortunately for the troll, the farmer grew carrots, so the troll was left with a load of useless bits while the farmer got the juicy carrots. The next year, they swapped halves, with the troll getting the bottom half and the farmer getting the top half."

I paused dramatically, although Harley seemed to know what was coming.

"So of course, the farmer grew wheat."

"So, the moral of the story is that farmers are dicks?"

Ivy snickered. I tried to smile, but my face still wasn't cooperating.

"Honestly, I think the moral of the story is to be careful about making deals with people, so you're technically right. Anyways, the story inspired me a bit. Crop rotation is vital for farming, and as the story stated 'half' always goes to waste. I figured that growing tubers and a 'top half' nitrogen fixer, like alfalfa, would allow farms to use their space much more efficiently and not have to bother with conventional crop rotation. Basically combining the benefits of polyculture and monoculture. It's turning out to be a lot harder than that though."

Harley looked at Ivy and me, interested if a little out of her depth.

"Yeah, how so?"

"Well, using potatoes and alfalfa as an example… they do better with different pollinators, different soil conditions, different harvest times, and different weather. Not to mention the fact that potato plants are toxic enough to kill livestock, so you wouldn't want it mixed in with the alfalfa."

Harley winced at that.

"Yeah, I can see why that wouldn't work well. So you two haven't found a compatible pair yet?"

"There are plenty with potential, but it's taking a while to work out the kinks. The problem is that there are way too many requirements that need to be fulfilled. Legumes and tubers would probably work, but they need to have matching growing conditions and should be harvested at close to the same time. It's making things really tricky. Of course, without Doctor Isley's expertise, it would be effectively impossible."

"Huh."

Ivy smiled happily, shaking her head. She looked happier than I'd ever seen her.

"Even if this plan fails, we'll still have plenty of products and methods that the industry bigwigs will sell their firstborn to get their hands on. Norman's ideas for hydroponics in particular will be revolutionary."

"Not really, most of it is taking advantage of old ideas and methods in new ways. Azolla really is a wonderful plant. And I'm still bummed that so many of my ideas have turned out to be duds. It sets back our goal of fixing the environment and solving world hunger back by decades."

Harley looked at us with an amused stare.

"Two at once? Isn't that a bit greedy?"

Ivy and I looked at each other and shrugged.

"I'm a rich businessman, greedy is in my blood."

"And I'm a supe- scientist. Um, of course I'm going to be ambitious"

Ivy hesitated slightly and glanced towards me, but I pretended not to notice her slip. We spent the rest of the evening relaxing and chatting about random topics. I let myself flop back on the grass as Harley laughed at something Ivy said. I still couldn't laugh or smile, but that didn't matter as much anymore.

Even if it didn't show, I couldn't be happier.

**Bit of an odd chapter, but don't blame me. It kinda wrote itself. The next chapter we get to see Norman throwing his weight around a bit, so look forward to it!**


	11. Chapter 11

Fitted suits were surprisingly comfy. Moving around in the one I'd obtained had felt a lot more natural than the suits I remembered from my past. I guess it was a matter of 'you get what you pay for' in action.

I looked normal from the outside, relying on a domino mask for a disguise. On the inside though, I was closer to the Goblin. I'd figured out how to transform my insides without changing my appearance. It gave me a decent safety net, although it took a lot of concentration.

'_-where fashion sits, Putting on a ritz~'_

It also had weird side effects.

My Goblin persona was singing away in my head and making random comments. It was weird, and just a teeny bit upsetting. I already knew I was crazy, but hearing voices made it more official somehow. that was stupid; hearing voices wasn't any worse than any other major symptom of mental illness. It just had been arbitrarily chosen as the poster child for evidence of insanity.

'_Hey, we're headed to a supervillain bar. This just means we'll fit in better!_'

I wasn't sure whether returning to a normal 'either/or' state would get rid of the Goblin's voice. This might be permanent, or it could just be an extension of my normal craziness.

'_Do you think turning into the Goblin but keeping our insides all normal and squishy would swap our voices around?'_

...That was a good question. It made me wonder whether I would be able to express my emotions like that as well. I couldn't like this, but that was more of a bonus considering my current goal.

Finding the bar had been surprisingly difficult. That made sense though; supervillains weren't going to let everyone know about their favorite hangouts. Even if they were used as neutral meeting places, letting the average joe know about them was just asking for a headache.

The Stacked Deck would have been easy to miss if it wasn't for the neon sign over the door displaying a hand holding a quartet of aces. It flashed every couple of seconds, displaying a fifth ace 'up' the hand's sleeve. A large man, nearly the size of Rhino, stood in front of the door with a sour, forbidding look that he'd probably practiced. He glared at me like he was hoping I keeled over dead. It was pretty obvious that he was a bouncer, although I would bet that he wasn't just turning away minors.

This bar catered exclusively to supervillains, their minions, and anyone who associated with them. They wouldn't want random drunks and thrill-seekers disturbing their regulars.

"Get lost kid."

The bouncer grunted the three words, glaring even harder than usual. I stared blandly at him, watching the way a scar on the underside of his chin flexed. I waited for three seconds before replying.

"I have business in the bar, if you don't mind."

"Look brat, wearing a mask doesn't make you a villain, and even if you were, you're still a minor."

"Do you prevent Ace from entering?"

The bouncer's glare deepened. He was starting to personally dislike me, instead of only disliking me because I was there and it was his job to. He started cracking his knuckles in a way that sounded way too much like someone pumping a shotgun. I could tell that the noise was a final warning, not a threat.

"...She's a _real_ supervillain. This is a place for real villains. Now, you've got three seconds to get out of my sight."

'_Welcome to the Salty Spittoon, how tough are ya?'_

'Goblin's' voice echoed in my head quietly. Part of me was glad I couldn't make expressions anymore, since snickering at this point would _not_ help matters.

"If you don't mind, I brought two forms of ID that should satisfy you."

The bouncer raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn't say anything. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a small stack of bills, fanning them open to attract his attention. Before he could say anything, I nodded down to my other hand which was holding a silenced pistol pointed at his waist. His eyes bugged out slightly, but otherwise he didn't react. He just nodded slowly and let me through. I put the gun away and slid the money into his pocket, walking in without a word.

I'd practiced that sleight of hand for over an hour yesterday, just so I could do it perfectly. It wouldn't trick anyone in the big leagues, but it was perfect for dealing with hired muscle. Plus, there was something innately satisfying in weaponizing what was basically a magic trick.

The bar inside was pretty average looking. The colors were dull, the lights dim, and the furniture solid but worn. Really, the only thing odd about this bar were the prices and the clientele. It was full of thugs, many in subdued costumes surrounding whichever supervillain employed them. The rest dressed more normally, but the atmosphere around them definitely wasn't that of men with nine to five jobs. All of them eyed me, partially because I didn't look like I belonged, and partially because there wasn't much on the TV.

I walked up to the bar, purchased a ten dollar root beer and ignored the stares while scanning the room for the Trickster. I caught sight of him in the far corner, his technicolor outfit sticking out even among the other eccentric dressers of the criminal underworld.

'_Sweet threads.'_

The Trickster's outfits was a mishmash of bright colors in random patterns. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to the way the pattern was sewn either. The overall design had a jester aesthetic, and it toed the line between amusingly whimsical and eye-wateringly obnoxious. From what I knew about The Trickster, that fits pretty well.

I was about a third of the way there when a hand reached out and a yellow-ish gas sprayed me in the face.

My lungs and airways had been partially converted into their biomechanical form long before I arrived. That should have made me immune to gas attacks. The cloying fear pumping through my veins made it all too clear that Scarecrow's gas was able to circumvent my protections somehow.

I turned and stared at the supervillain blandly. It was hard to tell with the burlap mask he wore, but he looked surprised. The room was silent as everyone watched us stare at each other. I heard a muffled noise as Scarecrow started to speak, but I cut him off by grabbing his arm and twisting it, forcing his face into the polished cement floor.

"Ho- Gurk!?"

It might have been the fear stealing away my restraint, but I almost reflexively pressed at just the right spot to dislocate Scarecrow's arm. A good chunk of the audience failed to hide their winces at the visceral popping noise. The rest either didn't react or eyed me approvingly. Of course, they wouldn't have reacted any differently if it was _me_ on the floor either.

'_Kill him.'_

I placed a foot onto his back and took a sip of my drink. Scarecrow avoided moving, in case I decided to injure him more. He did turn his head enough to look up and grunted.

"...Why aren't you afraid?"

'_Kill him.'_

I snorted calmly. It was frustrating, but even being dosed with fear gas and feeling terrified didn't change my expression at all. It was nice not to be screaming and running in fear though. The indignant rage coursing through me was probably bad, although I was enjoying it in a sadistic sort of way.

"Oh, I'm scared. I'm just not scared of _you_. Why would I be? You're just a bully with a vape pen full of fear juice."

'_Kill him. He may have been the first supervillain to attack you, but he won't be the last. Make an example of him. kill him.'_

Before he could respond I bent down and pressed a thumb into his shoulder blade. He hissed in pain.

'_Not good enough!_ _Hurry up! Let everyone know you aren't someone to be messed with! They are all too dangerous to be passive, so KILL HIM!'_

Having my thoughts split like this was actually helpful in some ways. It let me partition my thoughts, keeping me from acting on the _very_ strong urge to reach down and rip Scarecrow's head from his shoulders. It wouldn't help the fear running through my mind right now anyways. I stopped torturing him, although I made sure not to let him up yet.

"Almost everyone else here has had life shit on them somehow. But they didn't give up. They got up and slugged life right in the face. Even better, they decided to do it in style. It's what makes them s_uper_villains. But guys like you? You dress up, use your gimmicks, and _pretend_ to be supervillains. You don't have style, you don't have class… You just have an ugly costume and an M.O. that involves frightening people. And even that requires you to drug them first."

I stood up and brushed myself off dismissively, not even looking at him. Scarecrow pulled himself to his feet and I could see him reaching for something, but I had my pistol out and the silencer pressed up against his temple before he could pull it out. I spoke slowly and carefully.

"If you do something that proves you don't have brains I'm going to pop your head open to check. I'm not a supervillain or a superhero. I'm Normalman, and the laws of self-defense make shooting you perfectly legal if you start shit. So, try anything like that and it's 'off to see the wizard' for you, understand?"

'_Kill… no, sorry about that. I think I'm better now.'_

The fear slowly drained from my veins as we stood there. Scarecrow forced himself to stop reaching for the weapon and backed off. I walked away, but I could feel him glaring at me through the rip-like eye holes in his mask. I had definitely made an enemy today. I couldn't bring myself to care though; I was perfectly willing to shoot him in self-defense. I hadn't been joking when I said that I didn't like him. In fact, considering how scared and pissed I was since he dosed me up with fear gas, I was actually surprised I managed to hold back, partitioned mind or not.

'_Maybe it's because you aren't dumb enough to be the idiot who starts shooting in a bar full of supervillains?'_

Yeah, that was probably it. I didn't want to 'scare' off The Trickster either. He wouldn't want to deal with someone who committed murder right in front of him. Flash's rogue's gallery were pretty stand up guys after all.

I strolled up to The Trickster's booth and nodded at him as he stared back warily.

"May I talk to you?"

The Trickster nodded back. He had been hunched over a bit, eyeing me cautiously. My request didn't exactly make him relax, but he did realize that I wasn't planning on attacking him.

"And why did 'Normal-man' come here to visit? I doubt you're here just to beat the stuffing out of Scarecrow."

'_Ha! Scarecrow puns!'_

"Actually, I was hoping to meet you. I have a business proposition for you."

The trickster's odd-looking domino mask shifted as he raised an eyebrow. I reached into my suit and pulled out a small stack of papers, ignoring the way he stiffened.

"I would like to buy your air walking shoe design. The technology behind it should prove very useful and I would like it for a number of projects I'm working on."

The Trickster paused and gave me an odd look. Part of me noted that the people in the adjacent booths were listening in. I didn't really care though. The Trickster scratched the back of his neck and stared suspiciously at me.

"I don't think it'll be as useful as you think it will. There's a reason why I only got it to let me walk on air."

I shook my head, wishing I could give him a reassuring look.

"Don't sell yourself short. You managed that much with something that could fit in a pair of shoes. I have a few theories on how you managed it, but I decided it would be cheaper and easier to pay you, rather than try to reinvent the wheel."

"Oh?"

"My first theory is that you figured out how to utilize flux pinning on specially designed plates in your shoes. I _think_ that somehow you managed to create some alloy or metamaterial that has the properties needed to function using the earth's magnetic field when a charge is run through it."

'_Fuckin' magnets, how do they work?'_

'...really? Insane Clown Posse?'

I shook away the thought and looked at the Trickster. He stared at me with his jaw hanging open. I blinked slightly.

"Was that it? Because my other theories are a lot more far fetched."

"Y-yeah, that's how I managed it."

"Wonderful. That means it will be perfect for what I wanted. Plus, my other theories weren't much more plausible than 'uses pixie dust and positive psionic energy as fuel' if I'm going to be honest."

"Can I ask what you would do if I did sell the technology to you?"

"Use it to create safer and more fuel-efficient airplanes. Flux pinning wouldn't be as useful for that, but the Meissner effect would let planes glide, even with their wings broken off."

The Trickster shook his head.

"The size requirements mean that you get diminishing returns the larger the load. Eventually, you would need plates that weighed more than whatever it was carrying to keep it floating stably. You can't just add more power to compensate either. A higher current doesn't increase the effectiveness of the effect. I'm pretty the completed device to hold a fully loaded 747 would be a third of the total weight."

"That's actually still fine. It doesn't need to hold the whole thing aloft. The plane just needs to fall slower and it will make things safer. Only needing a small charge to do so means the plane will still be more fuel-efficient too. The planes would still have to rely on wings for generating lift either way. The diminishing returns just mean that take-offs will take a bit more energy."

The Trickster leaned back and took a long sip of his drink. He stared off at some point in the distance, thinking carefully. I waited patiently, finishing my cola.

"I'm not sure. There's a reason we don't sell our inventions…"

"Actually, I think that has more to do with people _stealing_ supervillain's inventions. From what I've studied, the idea of using supervillain technology became a taboo thanks to a number of independent incidents in the past. For instance, a few years back some moron nabbed one of Mr. Freeze's guns and reverse engineered part of it to use in his company's refrigeration units."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that."

The Trickster paused and shivered slightly. The only reason Mr. Freeze hadn't killed dozens of people was because of Batman's quick reactions and the fact that Mr. Freeze created his guns using designs cribbed from his cryogenics tech. His guns are literally designed using his research into keeping his wife alive.

I shook my head and cleared my throat.

"Supervillains _do_ occasionally deal with big businesses, it's just that it is usually limited to rights to toys and action figures. The only reason they don't sell inventions is simple. Normal people don't like dealing with morally bankrupt scum of the earth if they don't have to. And the morally bankrupt scum of the earth would rather try to steal the inventions anyway."

We ignored the sound of someone snorting behind me. I coughed lightly and pushed the papers towards the Trickster.

"Anyway, I'm not expecting you to make a decision immediately. Go ahead and have a lawyer look it over and get back to me later. Anyways, I need to go, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, yeah..."

I walked out the door, ignoring the stares of the people following me. If the Trickster agreed, this would be huge. Not just the invention, but getting my foot in the door. Supervillains only sold action figures and posters, if they were willing to sell their technology to me…

I wanted to change the world, but I couldn't do it alone. I could get a degree in basically anything I wanted in around a month, even if I had been cheating a bit by using my biomechanical brain. I was just short of a billionaire, and if everything went well I would reach that level of wealth by the end of the year. But all of that wasn't enough.

Now, I just needed help.

**Ugh... Sorry this took a while, but for some reason, it just wouldn't come out. I still don't really like it too. Something big is coming up in the story soon though, so look forward to it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, yeah. My muse just up and died a while back. It made writing this chapter about ten times harder. I ****_think_**** I did an okay job getting it right, but I can't bring myself to double-check to make sure. Hope you all like it!**

High school still sucked.

It was the wasted time that bothered me the most. The more progress I made setting up my projects and preparing to establish my company, The more all the time spent twiddling my thumbs in high school bothered me. There were a dozen better things I could be doing at the moment.

I really wanted to get that A.E. Pessimal fellow hired. I wanted to finish looking up and purchasing the lab equipment for Oscorp's research and development. I wanted to look further into buying that one television studio I'd had my eyes on. I had a constantly growing list of what I wanted or needed to do.

The worst thing was that going to high school hadn't given me the ability to express my emotions like I'd been hoping. I'd basically been throwing away massive chunks of my week by spending time in this hormonal hellhole. The only reason I hadn't given up a long time ago was stubbornness. I mean, this year was almost done, so I may as well finish it right? Apparently _knowing_ about the sunken cost fallacy didn't stop me from falling for it.

Super-genius my ass.

Anyways, I had a few things that I was able to do after school. Plus, not needing more than three hours of sleep a night meant that my time wasn't completely monopolized. A few of my plans were almost ready, just needing a few more details.

I almost had the charities for Project: Bloodier Diamonds set up. Which was a pretty pretentious name for basically hiring a couple of assassins to kill the evil asses using slave labor to mine blood diamonds in Africa and sending in well-equipped charities to help the locals. The only issues were in making sure the positive changes to the regions would stick, that the charities all had plausible deniability, and that nobody found out I'd been the one to hire the assassins.

Right now I was finishing off some online purchases and setting up a few surreptitious meetings while relaxing and talking with Ivy about the obstacles I'd been running into dealing with big businesses. We were in one of her greenhouses, watching the leaves on one of here trees sway.

"The problem is the actual _concept_ of middle management. The second I deal with anyone reporting up the chain any chance I have of convincing them breaks down."

Ivy smirked at me.

"Are you sure you haven't been reading to many Dilbert comics?"

"Ha ha. No see, in any business you need people to manage the workers. They look at the big picture and make decisions for the good of the company or whatever. The problem is that once a business gets past a certain size, you need people to manage the people managing the workers. And the bigger the company, the more layers you get."

Ivy smirked a bit. It was an odd smirk that she got whenever I started complaining about the big companies. I kept grumbling in a monotone, trying to convey my annoyance.

"A manager's job is to help the company get a certain amount of profit and performance from the workers he manages and to help the workers with various issues. Since those are mutually exclusive, the one that they usually try to please is their boss. And since it's easier to make the numbers _look_ nice…"

Ivy waved a hand at me.

"Alright, cool it, I get it."

I forced out a sigh.

"Sorry, I guess I'm still grumpy about dealing with them. It'll be easier once I have a proper business, but I just realized that _I'm_ going to be hiring a bunch of middle management and I'm not looking forward to it."

"Well, it's time to relax, so stop stewing and enjoy the rest."

"Alright, sorry."

I mentally forced myself to release the tension in my body. I took a deep breath of fresh, green air and relaxed deeper into the grass. After a few silent minutes, Ivy looked over and gave me an annoying grin.

"So, I hear you visited a certain villain bar recently?"

I almost flinched. Ivy grinned at me, obviously able to tell that she'd caught me flatfooted. We'd spent enough time working together or hanging out that she was able to read me, despite my emotionless body language.

"How'd you know?"

"Well, the name was a big clue. Normal-man? Really?"

I was really glad I couldn't blush. Ivy realized anyways and continued with a quiet snicker.

"Plus, there aren't too many expressionless teenagers who'd walk into a villain bar around here. A few of them were talking about the kid's preachy little speech. That reminded me so much of your little monologues that it was pretty obvious."

"Hey, I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Not _really_, most of them liked it. Quite a few liked seeing Scarecrow taken down a peg too."

"Ah, that's good. ...are my monologues really that preachy?"

"Yeah, a bit. It's not the worst thing in the world. It helps that you can't really sound pretentious with your monotone voice. Although, if I were you I'd use some of that cash you're rolling in to buy a few speech-making lessons or something like that."

"I've thought about it, but I can't exactly use charismatic body language. I may try later on when I have more time though."

Ivy raised her eyebrows a bit. Evidently, she'd been joking. I shrugged my shoulders in response. The conversation stalled for a second before Ivy gave me a look.

"Anyway, how'd you come up with 'Normal-man' as a name?"

"Well, it was going to be a joke about my defining quality being that I have a mental illness. I was going for a statement about how being crazy is the new normal or something. I never had the opportunity though, and it doesn't really work. The worst part is that I came up with a better costume later, but it was already too late."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I could have gotten myself a green apple mask and a bowler hat and call myself 'The Son of Man' instead."

Ivy frowned slightly and stared off into the distance before a look of dawning comprehension spread across her face. She smirked at me and jabbed me in the side with an elbow.

"You dork."

"It would have been good though, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely better than 'normal-man' in fact. You _could_ try to rebrand yourself if you're planning on doing something like that again. It probably won't work though. Your 'debut' was too public and the cape scene gets weird about names."

Our conversation turned towards different villain and hero names. It was interesting getting her perspective on them. I avoided mentioning her's, but there was still a looong list to work with. She had a lot to say about some of them too.

"Most villains have some sort of background with skills that help them in their new career. They might be inventors, have an odd physique, or maybe are just really, really smart. They tend to draw inspiration for their name from their unique skills or abilities. That's half the reason nobody respects Killer Moth. He just picked something that sounded cool, like an edgy tee-"

Suddenly, she paused in the middle of mocking Killer Moth.

"Huh? What is it?"

Ivy turned to look towards the entrance of the greenhouse just as the door creaked open.

When Harley walked in, it was obvious something was wrong. Her body language was so different that She seemed like a different person. She was hunched over, looking broken and vulnerable. When she caught sight of me, she seemed to want to turn around and leave.

"Harley! Are you alright!?"

I jumped to my feet and ran over, pulling her to our spot and moving her between us. Ivy pulled her into a hug as she started sniffling. She kept her head turned away from me, but I could see her bruises. One of her eyes was completely swollen shut.

Ivy's skin turned a vivid green as she abandoned her disguise. A series of vines sprouted, forming a row that disappeared off deeper into the conservatory. They shifted as a first aid kit and an icepack were passed along the vines and dropped into Ivy's hand. We pretended she hadn't outed herself as we took care of our friend.

Harley was still in her villainess outfit. I'd never seen her in it before, and this wasn't the best first impression. I did my best not to hover as Ivy wiped off her smeared makeup. Harley sniffled and spoke quietly, replying to my unspoken question.

"Mistah J is having a bad day. He was upset about something Commissioner Gordon did… It was my fault; I shouldn't have said anything."

I heard myself growling as my face started shifting. My expression didn't change, but my teeth got sharper and my skin started turning green as the Goblin started forcing itself to the surface. I sucked it back in and put a lid on it just as the whispers started. Ivy stared at me with slightly widened eyes. I shook my head and we concentrated on Harley. Leaning over, I looked her in the eye.

"Harley, I never want to hear something that stupid ever again."

"But I-"

"No! Not listening. You are smart, funny, and empathetic. I refuse to believe that this is your fault. Joker is just an unstable nutbar."

"He's-"

"Nuh-uh. Don't make excuses for him. You're smarter than that. His attitude fluctuates between insane and homicidally insane. If he lashed out at you, that's on him, not you."

"I-"

"Shush! You already said that he was upset about Commissioner Gordon. He was going to lash out long before you opened your mouth."

It bothered me, the way she quietly reacted. This wasn't the Harley I knew. She should have bopped me on the head for interrupting her. My friend wasn't a doormat like this. Once she stopped blaming herself I backed off again and let Ivy take over. Ivy was a lot more motherly than I was. Between us we managed to bring Harley out of her funk a bit.

"...I'm still worried about Mistah J. He's planning something big, calling in some oddballs and setting something up in the old carnival. He sent me away. He told me not to come back until he was finished..."

I ignored the goosebumps that I got when she spoke and reached over to give her a hug. I could deal with that later. Right now I needed to help my friend. We stayed like that for a while, her huddled up and me wrapping my arms around her.

"...No offense Norm, but you are really bad at hugs."

I shrugged but didn't let go.

"Ouch... Probably has something to do with the whole 'can't express emotions' thing. You want me to see if I can force a reassuring smile?"

Harley gave me a teary-eyed smile.

"No way. I've seen you try to smile before. It looks worse than Uncle Bob's from that one scene in the second Terminator movie."

"Alright then, how about you and Aunt Isley have a movie night. I'll go pick up some ice cream."

I let go and rubbed her back.

"...I want cookies and cream."

I gave Ivy a look behind Harley's back while she wasn't looking. Harley sniffled a bit and didn't notice.

"No problem."

"I'll set up the room, okay Harls?"

Harley nodded, sniffling again. Ivy and I moved away so we could talk without being overheard. I whispered in a low, monotone voice.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"No, you aren't. That would just make things worse for Harley right now. Besides, I've tried to kill that damn clown before. It never seems to stick."

"Can I go and break his legs then?"

"No, same problem. Besides, he's a lot more dangerous than you think. Remember, he regularly fights Batman."

"Hire Deadshot to pop his kneecaps?"

"He _might_ be willing to go against the Joker, but it will depend on his mood and how much you are willing to pay. Not many people like earning a grudge from the clown. Seriously, let it go."

"...fine."

I decided to let it go for now. I _was_ going to get ready for the Joker's plan though. Barbara Gordon was still Batgirl, so I could guess what was coming. This world didn't match up with any 'plotline' I knew about, but my intuition was screaming at me.

I knew, deep in my bones, that the Joker was getting ready for a Killing Joke.

**I was going to beat around the bush, but I decided not to. Now you know what's coming! I'll try to get the next chapter out ASAP, but I doubt I'll manage it within a week or two. I'm still really uninspired and I want to get this next bit RIGHT.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright. I finished it. It took two rewrites, hours of staring at it, ignoring it for a week and a half hoping the magical writing gnomes would finish it for me, and carefully forcing the sentences out of my brain like I was constipated, but I finished it.**

**It's gonna be a while before I stop hating this story enough to keep writing it. I have plans for more, but getting this bit out was awful.**

Figuring out when the Joker was going to attack was hard. The clown prince of crime was _really_ good at what he did. It made sense; he was Batman's nemesis. Knowing his plan wasn't enough. He was just too unpredictable.

I had a dozen plans for dealing with him, but all of them required being able to catch him in the first place. It was easier said than done. The Joker's hideouts had a reputation for nasty booby traps. Even worse, the one you searched was always the empty one. Even the carnival had no signs of his presence aside from a few modifications to get it ready for the 'show' he had planned.

If I knew the day, I could do a stakeout. I could send a message to Batman too, but getting a hold of him would be difficult without revealing my insider's knowledge. Unfortunately, I had a lot of plans that he wouldn't approve of. If he knew _I knew_ the Justice League's secret identities then he would probably do something drastic. I needed the Justice League to stay neutral or give me tacit approval if I was going to make the sweeping changes I had planned.

I eventually managed to surreptitiously send Batman a tip in my Norman identity. It wasn't like he didn't already know about the kid that occasionally hung out with two dangerous villainesses. I was pretty optimistic that he didn't know that I was the Goblin though.

The response wasn't what I'd wanted, but it was what I'd basically expected. Barbara Gordon wasn't some damsel in distress. She'd been Batgirl for a while before passing the torch to Cassandra. She was confident that she could handle the clown when she had the heads up. Her father wasn't some helpless civilian either. She spent more time around her father anyway, secretly guarding him.

Honestly? I shouldn't have worried. A huge part of what made the Joker so dangerous was his unpredictability. Just knowing his intended target was a literal lifesaver. Barbara Gordon was a lot better at the whole hero thing than I was as well.

I was still worried though. The Joker was terrifying. I'd known that before I had been reborn here, but that had been different. Actually living with him in the same city let me understand it on a whole new level. The Joker was _terrifying_.

My metaknowledge let me understand the scale he was capable of. God!Joker was a good example, but the ones that really scared me were the story/timeline where he tricked Superman into killing Lois and turned him into a tyrannical, murderous dictator or when he created the Batman Who Laughs. Superman and Batman... Living examples of incorruptible forces for good, and he corrupted them anyways.

So yeah, I wasn't going to stop worrying any time soon.

I found myself doing more patrols as the Goblin. It wasn't the most productive use of my time, despite the feel-good vibes of saving people directly. Then again, My part in a lot of my projects was finished, so I was just waiting for them to get back to me.

I'd recently located a magic user named Mrs. Earwig (pronounced Ah-wij). She didn't have the sheer power that Zatara or his daughter had. She was just about the snobbiest person I'd ever met as well. On the other hand, she definitely knew what she was doing.

She wasn't much help with most stuff, locating Joker included, but her skill in things like scrying and augury was amazing. She also really liked me, or rather, liked my money and my ideas. My idea for 'scry mapping' had her excited, even if Gotham was too 'magically chaotic' to use it on. On the bright side, I now knew where Themyscira was.

On the downside, knowing that the Joker was shrugging off magical tracking somehow had me even more paranoid.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop had been hard, but when I heard about the Joker attacking a jewelry store on the radio scanner I _knew_ that it was a diversion. Batman was out on League business, so the clown was up against the sidekicks. They would be much easier to fool.

I flew in the exact opposite direction of the robbery, straight for Gordon's house. Stealth wasn't a priority, so I pushed my glider to its limits. Turns out, it could go really, really fast.

...But I was still too late.

The door was open and the light was spilling out into the street. I could see the blood soaking the welcome mat from a block away. I swooped down and jumped off my glider. My feet hit the ground hard enough that I would have shattered them if I wasn't in my Goblin persona, but I ignored it and ran inside.

Barbara was lying on the ground, slowly bleeding out. It looked like she was trying to curl into a fetal position. The damage to her spine meant her legs lay limply on the floor. I jumped over her and ran inside the building cursing myself for being an idiot. I had forgotten to pack a first aid kit.

I had an antidote to Joker venom, tracking devices, a burner phone, and a half dozen other nifty little tools that my Goblin persona couldn't produce, but no first aid kit. It was official; whatever I was, I wasn't a super-genius. Either that or the boosts from all the drugs as a kid and the alien cube had brought me up to idiot-savant at best.

I didn't bother with opening doors, or even using them in the first place. There was no time. I just smashed through walls till I reached the bathroom. Luckily, the Gordons had a decently sized first aid kit. I scooped it up and rushed back to Barbara and put my training to good use.

I wasn't a doctor. _That_ took proper schooling, hands on experience, and a lot of time. However, medicine had been part of my extensive education and I knew first aid better than most, so I could tell that this wasn't going to be enough.

A small, increasingly vocal part of me wondered if this was my doing. My warning could have changed the outcome of Joker's shot, and the bullet must have hit something even more vital. She wasn't going to survive till the ambulance got here.

I couldn't think of anything that could help. My powers didn't work on other people…

But if she had my power, then she could survive.

'_You aren't thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking, are you?'_

"You're me, of course we're thinking the same thing, now shut up and help me figure out how to do this."

'_We don't know what's going to happen.'_

"We know what's going to happen if we _don't_ do anything."

'_You're really going to give it up?'_

"Of course I am, flying and super-strength aren't worth letting her die which is happening right now so stop stalling and help me."

'_Not powers, the ability to express emotions.'_

I hesitated. It's something that I would be ashamed of for the rest of my life. But instead of answering I just reached up to my chest and dug my long nails into my flesh.

If there were any controls or a user interface to this, I hadn't found it. I could manifest it, partially or fully, and I could create my glider and other toys, but that was it. I didn't have an 'uninstall' button in my head or anything like that. It wasn't a suit I could peel off either.

I manifested it and suppressed it over and over, leaving the skin gripped in my hand for last. I was hoping that I could 'build it up' in that section and tear it out, forcing the cube to revert, or at least bud off a piece large enough to save Barbara.

'_...I don't want to go.'_

I paused, making sure to keep the pressure on Barbara's wound.

"You're not me, you're the cube."

'_I'm both. I wasn't an 'I' until we became 'we'.'_

"You imprinted on me?"

'_Integrated. I didn't have enough 'me' to be a me, so I fused with your psyche to make up the difference.'_

"Why?"

'_We were already 'in the same boat', remember? Our only hope was each other.'_

"...I remember."

'_I don't want to go. I want to be a hero. I want to laugh. I want to make a difference. I want to smile. I want to make the world a better place.'_

"...Yeah, me too."

'_When I first woke up, I became you. Neither of us was whole. You had killed your emotions, given up on everything but escape and survival. I revived the bits that had died and occupied them. We aren't one and the same, but we aren't two separate beings either. At best we're one and a half.'_

That didn't surprise me.

'_I'm scared. We won't be whole anymore. You could lose your emotions and ambitions, but I-I could stop being aware.'_

"Barbara could-"

'_Barbara is already __whole__. There's no guarantee there will be anything to latch onto, much less integrate with.'_

"...You can take what you need with you when you go."

'_What!? No! Why would you say that?"_

"I owe you. You'll need it. I can manage without the bits if I'm careful. It just makes sense. ...Just make sure to help her."

'_...alright. Make sure to be careful though. And take care of Ivy and Harley, okay?'_

"Of course."

I got chills along my extremities and my flesh started tingling. The skin I'd sunk my hands into warmed up and I tore out a lump of 'meat' that quickly hardened into the cube.

I could feel a bit of 'me' missing as well. It felt ...cold. That didn't matter though. I placed Cube on Barbara's forehead and watched it glow and seep into her skin. It was a mesmerizing sight. But the thump of someone landing on the front porch distracted me.

"What did you do?"

I forced myself not to flinch at the harsh, intimidating tone of Batman speaking.

"I gave her the cube that gave me powers. I had lots of abilities as the Goblin, including some healing ones. She has everything now…"

That wasn't hyperbole. 'I' had taken it all when 'we' separated. My emotions, my idealistic dreams, and my extra intelligence were all missing. I felt cold. It hurt. I shook my head and banished the thoughts, ignoring Batman's stare.

"She'll be fine, just go save the Commissioner."

Batman gave me an unreadable stare before leaving. It was weird, but that made me feel really happy. The fact that he'd left so easily meant that he was giving me a certain amount of trust. I sat down and watched Barbara transform.

The black metallic 'skin' covering her was kind of mesmerizing to watch. The glowing, zigzagging lines crawled across her body, converting it into biomechanical flesh. It didn't take long for it to reach her wound. The gunshot sealed up instantly, much faster than I'd expected it to. A distorted lump of lead popped free of the smooth metal skin and her eyes opened.

"Wha..?"

"Don't move yet."

Her eyes flicked towards me. Barbara barely started to stiffen before she relaxed immediately. It was obvious that she was ready and willing to knock my block off, but she was level headed and in control.

"The cube needs to finish integrating. I hadn't been injured when I used it, so I don't know for sure, but I doubt shifting about will help."

"I was…"

"Shot in the stomach, right through the spine."

Barbara grimaced in _embarrassment_. That threw me for a bit. Apparently she had nerves of steel if her first reaction to this situation was to get embarrassed that she'd ended up like this in the first place.

"...You had a bunch of preparations and he just knocked on the door and shot you, didn't he?"

I couldn't see if she was blushing, since the metal covered her skin. The glare she gave me was obvious though.

"Yes. Now, what did you do to me?"

"The name's Norman, formerly The Goblin. I gave you what made me green and awesome."

"Green isn't my color."

I smirked at her snark, then I realized that Cube had finished the first phase. The sci-fi metal stared to warp and change color. And it wasn't turning green.

Her new appearance was creepy. She was definitely bat-themed, but her 'costume' was a shiny black in an almost organic way. There were white markings as well, also looking like the kind of thing H.R. Geiger would approve of.

It wasn't until I saw the mouthful of fangs that I realized that Cube was going the Venom Symbiote route.

"...Well, the good news is that you aren't green."

"_And the bad news?"_

Barbara paused when she heard her new, and very scary, voice.

"You'll have to get used to the smell of urine. A _lot_ of people are gonna be wetting themselves when you are out on patrol."

Her smile in response was something to behold.

"_...I can live with that._"

I managed to convince Barbara to take me along when she went to catch up with Batman. I bargained using my knowledge of her abilities and knowing where the Joker was going. I don't know if Cube was awake, but if he was, he wasn't circumventing me.

Barbara had transformed to look like she was wearing her previous Batgirl suit. I was clinging to her back as we zipped down the streets on her motorcycle.

"-and the cube seems to create 'temporary' matter for lack of a better word. I stuck some of my projectiles in a bag and they left it vacuum-sealed when they disappeared. I don't know how it works, but your webbing should be close to limitless."

"That's a potent mix of abilities, but as far as I know, Goblin didn't have most of those. Why?"

"Different loadout? I'm not sure who made Cube, but he wasn't a finished product. I'm fairly certain he was a prototype."

"He?"

"I'll let him explain it when he wakes up."

Barbara gave me an odd look but seemed to accept it. We zipped into the abandoned carnival in time to see her father. I took advantage of the distraction to sneak by them and slip deeper into the carnival.

I placed the little domino mask on my face and straightened my clothes before strolling into a building connected to the carnival's house of mirrors. It was full of rooms that had been set up to be 'wacky' by whoever built this place.

It was easy to find the upside-down room all I had to do was follow the muffled voices and crashing sounds.

"-ordinary people don't crack. Maybe, it's just you."

I opened the door just in time to see Joker yell in anger and slip out of Batman's grip. As he drew his gun they both looked towards me in time to see me throw the frying pan I had scooped off the floor. It smacked into Joker's wrist and knocked the gun out of his hand.

"I apologize for intruding on your little philosophical debate, but I needed to speak to Mr. Napier."

Both the men froze. I had timed it perfectly. The Joker was emotionally compromised enough that my just saying his name ruined any composure he had left."

"H-how?"

"I'm sorry, was that supposed to be a secret? You didn't want people to know about the idiot patsy in a red helmet who jumped in some chemical waste and got a bad bleach job? Or did you not want people to know about the failed stand up comedian or the man who lost his wife and unborn child?"

Joker's face twisted as a dozen emotions forced themselves on his face at once. I slowly walked up to him, ignoring Batman.

"People warned me you know; not to mess with the Joker. The Joker's dangerous, the Joker's unkillable, the Joker is too crazy to predict… There's this whole legend surrounding the Joker."

I walked within arm's reach of Joker and stared blankly into his twitching face.

"But Jack, _he's_ a dime a dozen, especially in a place like Gotham. How many thousands in this city alone have lost their families, failed at their dreams, been used by criminals, or been disfigured in an accident? You aren't special Jack Napier, you never were."

Joker's legs actually failed him, and he dropped to his knees. I leaned forwards and whispered into his ear.

"You wanted to stop being the joke, so you became the Joker? You want to act like you went through some special, eye-opening tragedy that somehow let you see the world better than. quote on quote, normal people? Don't make me laugh."

I stepped away and turned my back on him, starting to walk out of the room. I saw Batman's eyes widen inside his cowl as a hand grabbed my shoulder and forced me to turn around. Batman lunged for us as I got a face full of chemical spray. Joker screamed at me as he blasted me with his infamous gas.

"Then laugh at this!"

Batman slammed into Joker and pinned him to the ground, too late to stop him. They both stared at me as I stood there with my blank face. I could feel the toxic concoction running through my veins, but I calmly pulled out the syringe with the antidote to Joker Venom and injected it into my arm.

"No."

Joker didn't stop screaming, even after they shoved him into the prisoner transport and drove away.

It wasn't easy, but I managed to avoid being questioned. They were still going to interrogate me, but it was being put off until everything was sorted out and they knew Barbara was safe. Unfortunately, that meant that they would have Wonder Woman or Martian Manhunter there when they finally got around to it.

But I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially since I knew Batman wasn't going to approve of phase two of my plan.

**Alright. I hope that wasn't too awful. I'm posting the interlude right now as well too.**


	14. Chapter 14

Gotham wasn't a nice place to live.

Blake understood that all too well. What he also knew, what most Gothamites knew, was that there was plenty of opportunity here as well. Life in Gotham could be very good if you weren't a moron and were willing to get your hands dirty.

Take Arkham for instance. It was chock full of freaks. That was literally what it had been built for. But being an orderly there was one of the better jobs you could have as long as you had a brain. It was easy work and paid well. The inmates also gave plenty of 'tips' if you were willing to do them a favor or two.

The creep in charge, Professor Strange, was the reason Blake got his job here. Blake had 'minor' sociopathic tendencies. Apparently that was a quality Arkham looked for in its orderlies. The Professor must be as nutty as the inmates if he thought that would end well. Even Blake knew that was crazy. But honestly? He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The 'reason' he'd been given was that his lack of empathy helped prevent the crazies from manipulating him. The clown had gotten his hooks in some therapist bitch a while back and everyone was still leery about it happening again.

Speaking of, some anonymous individual had sent a package to be delivered to the Joker. It arrived just a couple hours after he did, too. They paid Blake a huge stack of cash in exchange for bypassing the normal inspections. It looked like the Joker wasn't going to be staying very long this time.

Good. The clown was even creepier than usual. Joker hadn't laughed since they brought him in and it was freaking everyone out.

Blake liked doing stuff like this. The crazies here remembered when you did them favors. It was an easy way to make some cash and helped you avoid getting caught in their schemes or escape plans. And if Blake lost his job, he could join the gang of one of the inmates he'd been secretly helping. 'I helped you escape Arkham that one time' was a great thing to have on your resume.

Blake hid the package under the linens on his cart and strolled down the hall. He nodded to a pair of guards as he passed them. They ignored him, just like always. Most people who worked here for longer than a few months were too jaded to be a problem. Some of them wouldn't even report their keycard missing for an hour, at least as long as they got it back and there were a couple of hundreds where the card usually was.

It took less than thirty seconds for Blake to stop and slide the package through the slot. He didn't meet Joker's eyes, he just closed it up and moved on. He did leave at a faster walk, but he made sure not to run. The clown scared him, and he didn't want to be around him any longer than he needed to.

Joker's smile twitched, plastic and fake. His plan had failed. No, not just failed... It had been ruined.

They knew.

At first, everything had gone off without a hitch. He'd shot Gordon's daughter, right in front of the man too. It was a shame he hadn't been able to take his time making it ...sink in, but the distraction he'd set up for Batsy wasn't going to buy much time and he'd needed to get the stage set properly.

Poor, poor Jimmy had been so upset when he'd seen the pictures. He hadn't broken before Batsy rescued him, but that was fine. Sometimes you only get the punchline long after you'd heard the joke. Once the Commissioner went home to his empty house… Well, then he'd see the funny side.

But then _brat_ showed up and ruined things.

...How had he known?

Bats didn't break. Gordon didn't break. That kid...

He'd need to do something bigger as soon as he got out. Everyone needed to know that Joker wasn't… He was…

That kid would be first.

The rattle of a laundry cart distracted him from his scheming.

It was whatshisface. One of the more cooperative orderlies. He was useful, although the guy never smiled. If Joker was still in a bad mood the next time he escaped he might fix that.

They had to remember… He'd remind them...

The package whatshisface delivered was quite large. Normally it was something small, like a keycard, a spool of wire, a knife, or even a piece of paper with a date on it. Joker shrugged and grabbed it. He could use the distraction.

It was a cake. Written in icing were the words:

**For an**

**Incarcerated**

**Lawless**

**Evildoer**

The Joker's grin regained its spark. It seemed that someone had given him the opportunity to enact some _sweet_ revenge. And they had a sense of humor too!

He jammed his hand into the center of the cake, smiling even wider when his fingers touched something metal just under the icing. He pulled a long steel file out of the cake. Tiny, malicious giggles echoed throughout his cell as he pulled up the tool and licked a bit of icing off it. As he did he saw something etched onto one side.

As the Joker raised the file to look closer, a small piece of metal popped free of the cake with a pinging sound and hung from a length of fishing line tied to the file's handle.

It took the Clown Prince of Crime a fraction of a second to recognize the cake covered ring as a pin from a grenade. His eyes flicked back to the file, and he saw the word 'Assume' written on it, with the 'me' scratched out.

He barely had started laughing when his world exploded.


	15. A quick announcement

So, apparently my little cliffhanger is causing a lot of people to make certain understandable assumptions. Since it's going to be a while before I move onto the main start of this story, I thought I should explain something to everyone, since apparently you all can't read my mind.

**The Goblin isn't gone.**

This isn't as big a spoiler as you'd think, but I needed to say it anyways. We are reaching a major turning point in the story, and I needed this to happen, as obnoxious as people found it. There's going to be a whole _thing_ with people debating on what should happen with the power. There are a lot of different reasons why different characters will be choosing one option or another.

If you want Norman to get his power back, make his own copy, or something entirely different, then go ahead and shoot me a message. My plans aren't set in stone, and if enough people think the story should go a certain way, then I can tweak the plot to make it work.

Anyways, thanks so much for reading!


	16. Chapter 15

**Alright, I was planning on tossing a whole bunch at all of you at once, but writing has been ****slow**** lately. So I'll give you what I can when I manage to write some.**

...

Batman frowned at the readout he'd gotten on the sample of cake frosting. He reached over and typed something into the computer dominating an entire wall of the cave.

"Going into the confectionary business master Bruce?"

Alfred's dry tones echoed through the bat cave. Batman didn't respond right away. He brought up a couple pictures and documents. After frowning at them for a second, he spoke in a flat tone.

"The frosting on the cake was poisoned."

"Ah. It seems our mysterious good samaritan was gratifyingly thorough."

Batman gave Alfred a look, but his butler was distinctly unapologetic. It didn't take long for Batman to give up the staring contest. He turned back to the computer and highlighted portions of the chemical equation.

"The poison is ...interesting. It's actually based on the antidote to Joker Venom. Anyone else exposed would become sick, but the Joker-"

"-Jack Napier, Master Bruce."

Alfred interrupted Bruce with a firm tone. He continued speaking with conviction.

"I agree with Mister Osborn. There is no need to indulge the man by perpetuating the legend."

Batman nodded. He agreed of course, but old habits were hard to break. The obsession had run both directions in many ways.

"Yes… The poison had drastic effects on Jack Napier's modified biology. It was effectively a potent cytotoxin for him and him alone."

Batman brought up a photo of Joker's autopsy. The flesh had rotted off the perforated skull, leaving behind shrapnel-filled bone and yellowed teeth. A metal file had embedded itself between the skull's eyes with the engraved word 'ass' visible. Alfred nodded with a cold smile of approval on his face.

"_Very_ thorough. Have you discovered the source of this special poison?"

Batman responded by bringing up another set of pages with information on different chemicals. Alfred's eyes flicked over them for a second before speaking in a surprised tone.

"Poison Ivy?"

"Not quite. The formulation is similar to those found in her antidotes and other manufactured concoctions, but the ingredients are artificial. She normally disdains anything that isn't naturally sourced and gathered by herself. Someone has access to her lab and methods, but he isn't limiting himself like she does."

"...Norman Osborn again. The boy really is full of surprises. I certainly hadn't imagined that Mister Wesker would gain his own children's show. The fact that it has become so popular is even more impressive."

Alfred's voice trailed off as he watched Batman's back. The man stared at the set of Bruce's shoulders and read his emotions with a level of skill only a telepath like Martian Manhunter could manage.

"Master Bruce?"

Batman stayed silent for a full minute. Alfred waited patiently and he eventually started speaking.

"...I came very close to disrespecting Gordon's wishes."

"Sir?"

Bruce covered his eyes with a hand and breathed slowly for a second before finally looking at Alfred.

"I was going to kill Jok-Jack Napier eventually. Or he would have killed me. Things weren't going to just keep going the way they were forever. Gordon asked me to do things by the book, but…"

Alfred just nodded and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. If anyone understood Batman, it was Alfred Pennyworth. Eventually, Bruce cleared his throat and spoke in a quiet, cold voice.

"And now, because I kept putting it off, a young man was forced to give up his powers and become a killer. And I'm _thankful!_ Thankful that _I_ wasn't forced to kill the Joker."

Bruce choked those last words out, shuddering in self-loathing. Alfred shook his head.

"With all due respect Master Bruce, you are taking credit for choices that the boy himself has made. A poison formulated to work specifically on Jack Napier's modified biology could not have been invented overnight. From what you've told me, it seems like Miss Gordon may be able to return this 'Cube' that was used to heal her as well."

With an effort of will, Batman gained control of his emotions once more and nodded in determination.

He would make it up to the kid, but for now, he went back to work.

...

**People like to play up Batman's paranoia, but I thought that some of his other traits were a bit more important here.**

**I'm going to try to get the bit with Norm and Ivy next, but it's slow going.**


End file.
